THE 


L 

1     >      'j     3 

J      *        J  0 

r. 

s. 

AR 

THl 

BOSTON: 
L.  P.  CROWN  &  CO.,  61  CORNHILL. 

PHILADELPHIA : 
J.  W.  BRADLEY,  48  N.  FOURTH  ST. 

1855. 


• 


Entered  according  to<  Aci  of  Congress,  .'.'nithe  |Xea,v  1855,  by 

tf.  S.  ARTHUR, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of<thb  4)ist'rict'C'oUi.i.of  the  United  States, for  the 
Ea&ieru  Distric       ' 


STEREOTYPED   BY   I-.  JOHNSOX  &   CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 


BOTNER  &  DOYLE,  PRINTERS. 

% 


PREFACE. 


LIFE  is  a  mystery  to  all  men,  and  the  more  profound 
the  deeper  the  striving  spirit  is  immersed  in  its  own 
selfish  instincts.  How  earnestly  do  we  all  fix  our  eyes 
upon  the  slowly-advancing  future,  impatiently  waiting 
that  good  time  coming  which  never  comes  !  How  fast 
the  years  glide  by,  beginning  in  hope  and  ending  in 
disappointment !  Strange  that  we  gain  so  little  of  true 
wisdom  amid  the  sharp  disappointments  that  meet  us 
at  almost  every  turn  !  How  keenly  the  writer  has  suf 
fered  with  the  rest,  need  not  be  told.  It  will  be  enough 
to  say  that  he,  too,  has  long  been  an  anxious  waiter 
for  the  "good  time  coming,"  which  has  not  yet  arrived. 

But  hope  should  not  die  because  of  our  disappoint 
ments.  There  is  a  good  time  coming,  and  for  each  one 
of  us,  if  we  work  and  wait  for  it ;  but  we  must  work 
patiently,  and  look  in  the  right  direction.  Perhaps 
our  meaning  will  be  plainer  after  our  book  is  read. 

3 


M110092 


THE 

GOOD  TIME  COMING 


CHAPTEK  I. 

THERE  was  not  a  cloud  in  all  the  bright  blue  sky,  nor 
a  shadow  upon  the  landscape  that  lay  in  beauty  around 
the  lovely  home  of  Edward  Markland ;  a  home  where 
Love  had  folded  her  wings,  and  Peace  sought  a  per 
petual  abiding-place.  The  evening  of  a  mild  summer 
day  came  slowly  on,  with  its  soft,  cool  airs,  that  just 
dimpled  the  shining  river,  fluttered  the  elm  and  maple 
leaves,  and  gently  swayed  the  aspiring  heads  of  the  old 
poplars,  which,  though  failing  at  the  root,  still  lifted, 
like  virtuous  manhood,  their  greenest  branches  to 
heaven. 

In  the  broad  porch,  around  every  chaste  column  of 
which  twined  jessamine,  rose,  or  honeysuckle,  filling  the 
air  with  a  delicious  fragrance  beyond  the  perfumer's  art 
to  imitate,  moved  to  and  fro,  with  measured  step  and 
inverted  thought,  Edward  Markland,  the  wealthy  owner 
of  all  the  fair  landscape  spreading  for  acres  around  the 
elegant  mansion  he  had  built  as  the  home  of  his  beloved 
ones. 

"Edward."   Love's  sweetest  music  was  in  the  voice 

1*  5 


6  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

that  uttered  his  name,  and  love's  purest  touch  in  the 
hand  that  lay  upon  his  arm. 

A  smile  broke  over  the  grave  face  of  Markland,  as  he 
looked  down  tenderly  into  the  blue  eyes  of  his  Agnes. 

"I  never  tire  of  this,"  said  the  gentle-hearted  wife, 
in  whose  spirit  was  a  tuneful  chord  for  every  outward 
touch  of  beauty ;  "  it,  looks  as  lovely  now  as  yesterday ; 
it  was  as  lovely  yesterday  as  the  day  my  eyes  first  drank 
of  its  .sweetness.  Hush  !" 

A  bird  had  just  alighted  on  a  slender  spray  a  few 
yards  distant,  and  while  yet  swinging  on  the  elastic 
bough,  poured  forth  a  gush  of  melody. 

"What  a  thrill  of  gladness  was  in  that  song,  Edward! 
It  was  a  spontaneous  thank-offering  to  Him,  without 
whom  not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground ;  to  Him  who 
clothes  the  fields  in  greenness,  beautifies  the  lily,  and 
provides  for  every  creature  its  food  in  season.  And 
this  reminds  me,"  she  added  in  a  changed  and  more  so 
bered  voice,  "that  our  thank-offering  for  infinite  mercies 
lies  in  deeds,  not  heart-impulses  nor  word-utterances.  I 
had  almost  forgotten  poor  Mrs.  Elder." 

And  as  Mrs.  Markland  said  this,  she  withdrew  her 
hand  from  her  husband's  arm,  and  glided  into  the  house, 
leaving  his  thoughts  to  flow  back  into  the  channel  from 
which  they  had  been  turned. 

In  vain  for  him  did  Nature  clothe  herself,  on  that 
fair  day,  in  garments  of  more  than  usual  beauty.  She 
wooed  the  owner  of  Woodbine  Lodge  with  every  entice 
ment  she  could  offer ;  but  he  saw  not  her  charms ;  felt 
not  the  strong  attractions  with  which  she  sought  to  win 
his  admiration.  Far  away  his  thoughts  were  wandering, 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  7 

and  in  the  dim  distance  Fancy  was  busy  with  half- 
defined  shapes,  which  her  plastic  hand,  with  rapid 
touches,  moulded  into  forms  that  seemed  instinct  with  a 
purer  life,  and  to  glow  with  a  more  ravishing  beauty 
than  any  thing  yet  seen  in  the  actual  he  had  made  his 
own.  And  as  these  forms  became  more  and  more 
vividly  pictured  in  his  imagination,  the  pace  of  Edward 
Markland  quickened ;  and  all  the  changing  aspects  of 
the  man  showed  him  to  be  in  the  ardour  of  a  newly- 
forming  life-purpose. 

It  was  just  five  years  since  he  commenced  building 
"Woodbine  Lodge  and  beautifying  its  surroundings.  The 
fifteen  preceding  years  were  spent  in  the  earnest  pur 
suit  of  wealth,  as  the  active  partner  in  a  large  mercan 
tile  establishment.  Often,  during  these  busy  fifteen 
years,  had  he  sighed  for  ease  and  "  elegant  leisure ;" 
for  a  rural  home  far  away  from  the  jar,  and  strife,  and 
toil  incessant  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  Beyond 
this  he  had  no  aspiration.  That  "  lodge  in  the  wilder 
ness,"  as  he  sometimes  vaguely  called  it,  was  the  bright 
ideal  of  his  fancy.  There,  he  would  often  say  to  him 
self— 

"  How  blest  could  I  live,  and  how  calm  could  I  die  !" 

And  daily,  as  the  years  were  added,  each  bringing 
its  increased  burdens  of  care  and  business,  would  he 
look  forward  to  the  "good  time  coming,"  when  he  could 
shut  behind  him  forever  the  doors  of  the  warehouse  and 
counting-room,  and  step  forth  a  free  man.  Of  the  strife 
for  gain  and  the  sharp  contests  in  business,  where  each 
seeks  advantages  over  the  other,  his  heart  was  weary, 


8  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

and  he  would  often  sigh  in  the  ears  of  his  loving  home- 
companion,  "  Oh  !  for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  that  I  might 
fly  away  and  be  at  rest !" 

And  at  length  this  consummation  of  his  hopes  came. 
A  year  of  unusual  prosperity  swelled  his  gains  to  the 
sum  he  had  fixed  as  reaching  his  desires  ;  and,  with  a 
sense  of  pleasure  never  before  experienced,  he  turned 
all  his  affections  and  thoughts  to  the  creation  of  an 
earthly  paradise,  where,  with  his  heart  and  home  trea 
sures  around  him,  he  could,  "the  world  forgetting, 
by  the  world  forgot,"  live  a  truer,  better,  happier 
life,  than  was  possible  amid  the  city's  din,  or  while 
breathing  the  ever-disturbed  and  stifling  atmosphere 
of  business. 

And  now  his  work  of  creation  at  Woodbine  Lodge 
was  complete.  Everywhere  the  hand  of  taste  was  visi 
ble — everywhere.  You  could  change  nothing  without 
marring  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  During  all  the  years 
in  which  Mr.  Markland  devoted  himself  to  the  perfecting 
of  Woodbine  Lodge,  there  was  in  his  mind  just  so  much 
of  dissatisfaction  with  the  present,  as  made  the  looked- 
for  period,  when  all  should  be  finished  according  to  the 
prescriptions  of  taste,  one  in  which  there  would  be  for 
him  almost  a  Sabbath-repose. 

How  was  it  with  Mr.  Markland  ?  All  that  he  had 
prescribed  as  needful  to  give  perfect  happiness  was 
attained.  Woodbine  Lodge  realized  his  own  ideal;  and 
every  one  who  looked  upon  it,  called  it  an  Eden  of 
beauty.  His  work  was  ended ;  and  had  he  found  rest 
and  sweet  peace  ?  Peace  !  Gentle  spirit !  Already  she 
had  half-folded  her  wings ;  but,  startled  by  some  uncer- 


THE  GOOD   TIME   COMING.  9 

tain  sound,  she  was  poised  again,  and  seemed  about  to 
sweep  the  yielding  air  with  her  snowy  pinions. 

The  enjoyment  of  all  he  had  provided  as  a  means  of 
enjoyment  did  not  come  in  the  measure  anticipated. 
Soon  mere  beauty  failed  to  charm  the  eye,  and  fra 
grance  to  captivate  the  senses  ;  for  mind  immortal  rests 
not  long  in  the  fruition  of  any  achievement,  but  quickly 
gathers  up  its  strength  for  newer  efforts.  And  so,  as 
we  have  seen,  Edward  Markland,  amid  all  the  winning 
blandishments  that  surrounded  him  on  the  day  when  in 
troduced  to  the  reader,  neither  saw,  felt,  nor  appreciated 
what,  as  looked  to  from  the  past's  dim  distance,  formed 
the  Beulah  of  his  hopes. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  FEW  minutes  after  Mrs.  Markland  left  her  hus 
band's  side,  she  stepped  from  the  house,  carrying  a 
small  basket  in  one  hand,  and  leading  a  child,  some  six 
or  seven  years  old,  with  the  other. 

"Are  you  going  over  to  see  Mrs.  Elder  ?"  asked  the 
child,  as  they  moved  down  the  smoothly-graded  walk. 

"Yes,  dear,"  was  answered. 

"  I  don't  like  to  go  there,"  said  the  child. 

"Why  not,  Aggy."  The  mother's  voice  was  slightly 
serious. 

"Every  thing  is  so  mean  and  poor." 

"  Can  Mrs.  Elder  help  that,  Aggy?" 

"  I  don't  know." 


10  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"She's  sick,  my  child,  and  not  able  even  to  sit  up. 
The  little  girl  who  stays  with  her  can't  do  much.  I 
don't  see  how  Mrs.  Elder  can  help  things  looking  mean 
and  poor;  do  you?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  answered  Aggy,  a  little  bewildered  by 
what  her  mother  said. 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Elder  would  be  happier  if  things  were 
more  comfortable  around  her;  don't  you,  Aggy?" 

"Yes,  mother," 

"  Let  us  try,  then,  you  and  I,  to  make  her  happier." 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  little  Aggy,  lifting  a  won 
dering  look  to  her  mother's  face. 

"  Would  you  like  to  try,  dear  ?" 

"If  I  knew  what  to  do." 

"  There  is  always  a  way  when  the  heart  is  willing. 
Do  you  understand  that,  love  ?" 

Aggy  looked  up  again,  and  with  an  inquiring  glance, 
to  her  mother. 

"  We  will  soon  be  at  Mrs.  Elder's.  Are  you  not  sorry 
that  she  is  so  sick  ?  It  is  more  than  a  week  since  she 
was  able  to  sit  up,  and  she  has  suffered  a  great  deal  of 
pain." 

"Yes,  I'm  very  sorry."  And  both  look  and  tone 
confirmed  the  truth  of  her  words.  The  child's  heart 
was  touched. 

"  When  we  get  there,  look  around  you,  and  see  if 
there  is  nothing  you  can  do  to  make  her  feel  better. 
I'm  sure  you  will  find  something." 

"What,  mother?"    Aggy's  interest  was  all  alive  now. 

"  If  the  room  is  in  disorder,  you  might,  very  quietly, 
put  things  in  their  right  places.  Even  that  would  make 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  11 

her  feel  better ;  for  nobody  can  be  quite  comfortable  in 
the  midst  of  confusion." 

"  Oh  !  I  can  do  all  that,  mother."  And  light  beamed 
in  the  child's  countenance.  "  It's  nothing  very  hard." 

"  No ;  you  can  do  all  this  with  little  effort ;  and  yet, 
trifling  as  the  act  may  seem,  dear,  it  will  do  Mrs.  Elder 
good  :  and  you  will  have  the  pleasing  remembrance  of  a 
kind  deed.  A  child's  hand  is  strong  enough  to  lift  a 
feather  from  an  inflamed  wound,  even  though  it  lack  the 
surgeon's  skill."  The  mother  said  these  last  words  half 
to  herself. 

And  now  they  were  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Elder's  unat 
tractive  cottage,  and  the  mother  and  child  passed  in. 
Aggy  had  not  overdrawn  the  picture  when  she  said  that 
every  thing  was  poor  and  mean ;  and  disorder  added  to 
the  unattractive  appearance  of  the  room  in  which  the 
sick  woman  lay. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  find  you  no  better,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land,  after  making  a  few  inquiries  of  the  sick  woman. 

"  I  shall  never  be  any  better,  I'm  afraid,"  was  the 
desponding  answer. 

"  Never !  Never  is  a  long  day,  as  the  proverb  says. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  night  that  had  no  morning?" 
There  was  a  cheerful  tone  and  manner  about  Mrs  Mark- 
land  that  had  its  effect ;  but,  ere  replying,  Mrs.  Elder's 
dim  eyes  suddenly  brightened,  as  some  movement  in  the 
room  attracted  her  attention. 

"Bless  the  child!  Look  at  her!"  And  the  sick 
woman  glanced  toward  Aggy,  who,  bearing  in  mind 
her  mother's  words,  was  already  busying  herself  in  the 
work  of  bringing  order  out  of  disorder. 


12  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Look  at  the  dear  creature  !"  added  Mrs.  Elder,  a 
glow  of  pleasure  flushing  her  countenance,  a  moment 
before  so  pale  and  sad. 

Unconscious  of  observation,  Aggy,  with  almost  a 
woman's  skill,  had  placed  first  the  few  old  chairs  that 
were  in  the  room,  against  the  wall,  at  regular  distances 
from  each  other.  Then  she  cleared  the  littered  floor  of 
chips,  pieces  of  paper,  and  various  articles  that  had  been 
left  about  by  the  untidy  girl  who  was  Mrs.  Elder's  only 
attendant,  and  next  straightened  the  cloth  on  the  table, 
and  arranged  the  mantel-piece  so  that  its  contents  no 
longer  presented  an  unsightly  aspect. 

"  Where  is  the  broom,  Mrs.  Elder  ?"  inquired  the 
busy  little  one,  coming  now  to  the  bedside  of  the  in 
valid. 

"  Never  mind  the  broom,  dear ;  Betsy  will  sweep  up 
the  floor  when  she  comes  in,"  said  Mrs.  Elder.  "  Thank 
you  for  a  kind,  good  little  girl.  You've  put  a  smile  on 
every  thing  in  the  room.  What  a  grand  housekeeper 
you  are  going  to  make  !" 

Aggy's  heart  bounded  with  a  new  emotion.  Her 
young  cheeks  glowed,  and  her  blue  eyes  sparkled.  If 
the  pleasure  she  felt  lacked  any  thing  of  pure  delight, 
a  single  glance  at  her  mother's  face  made  all  complete. 

"When  did  you  hear  from  your  daughter?"  asked 
Mrs.  Markland. 

There  was  a  change  of  countenance  and  a  sigh. 

"  Oh !  ma'am,  if  Lotty  were  only  here,  I  would  be 
happy,  even  in  sickness  and  suffering.  It's  very  hard 
to  be  separated  from  my  child." 

"She  is  in  Charleston?" 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  13 

"Yes,  ma'am," 

"  Is  her  husband  doing  well?" 

"  I  can't  say  that  he  is.  He  isn't  a  very  thrifty 
man,  though  steady  enough." 

"  Why  did  they  go  to  Charleston  ?" 

"  He  thought  he  would  do  better  there  than  here  ; 
but  they  haven't  done  as  well,  and  Lotty  is  very  un 
happy." 

"Do  they  talk  of  returning  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  they're  both  sick  enough  of  their  new 
home.  But  then  it  costs  a  heap  of  money  to  move 
about  with  a  family,  and  they  haven't  saved  any  thing. 
And,  more  than  this,  it  isn't  just  certain  that  James 
could  get  work  right  away  if  he  came  back.  Foolish 
fellow  that  he  was,  not  to  keep  a  good  situation  when 
he  had  it !  Eut  it's  the  way  of  the  world,  Mrs.  Mark- 
land,  this  ever  seeking,  through  change,  for  something 
better  than  Heaven  awards  in  the  present." 

"  Truly  spoken,  Mrs.  Elder.  How  few  of  us  possess 
contentment ;  how  few  extract  from  the  present  that 
good  with  which  it  is  ever  supplied !  We  read  the 
fable  of  the  dog  and  the  shadow,  and  smile  at  the  folly 
of  the  poor  animal ;  while,  though  instructed  by  reason, 
we  cast  aside  the  substance  of  to-day  in  our  efforts  to 
grasp  the  shadowy  future.  We  are  always  looking  for 
the  blessing  to  come ;  but  when  the  time  of  arrival  is 
at  hand,  what  seemed  so  beautiful  in  the  hazy  distance 
is  shorn  of  its  chief  attraction,  or  dwarfed  into  nothing 
ness  through  contrast  with  some  greater  good  looming 
grandly  against  the  far  horizon." 

Mrs.  Markland  uttered  the  closing  sentence  half  in 


14  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

reverie;  for  her  thoughts  were  away  from  the  sick  wo 
man  and  the  humble  apartment  in  which  she  was  seated. 
There  was  an  abstracted  silence  of  a  few  moments,  and 
she  said: 

"Speaking  of  your  daughter  and  her  husband,  Mrs- 
Elder;  they  are  poor,  as  I  understand  you?" 

" Oh  yes,  ma'am;  it  is  hand-to-mouth  with  them  all 
the  time.  James  is  kind  enough  to  Lotty,  and  indus 
trious  in  his  way ;  but  his  work  never  turns  to  very 
good  account." 

"  What  business  does  he  follow  ?" 

"  He's  a  cooper  by  trade ;  but  doesn't  stick  to  any 
thing  very  long.  I  call  him  the  rolling  stone  that  gath 
ers  no  moss." 

"What is  he  doing  in  Charleston?" 

"  He  went  there  as  agent  for  a  man  in  New  York, 
who  filled  his  head  with  large  ideas.  He  was  to  have  a 
share  in  the  profits  of  a  business  just  commenced,  and 
expected  to  make  a  fortune  in  a  year  or  two ;  but  be 
fore  six  months  closed,  he  found  himself  in  a  strange 
city,  out  of  employment,  and  in  debt.  As  you  said,  a 
little  while  ago,  he  dropped  the  present  substance  in 
grasping  at  a  shadow  in  the  future." 

"  The  way  of  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  ever  looking  for  the  good  time  coming 
that  never  comes,"  sighed  Mrs.  Elder.  "  Ah,  me,"  she 
added,  "I  only  wish  Lotty  was  with  me  again." 

"  How  many  children  has  she  ?" 

"Four." 

"  One  a  baby  ?" 

"Yes,  and  but  three  months  old." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  15 

"She  has  her  hands  full." 

"You  may  well  say  that,  ma'am;  full  enough." 

"  Her  presence,  would  not,  I  fear,  add  much  to  your 
comfort,  Mrs.  Elder.  With  her  own  hands  full,  as  you 
say,  and,  I  doubt  not,  her  heart  full,  also,  she  would  not 
have  it  in  her  power  to  make  much  smoother  the  pillow 
on  which  your  head  is  lying.  Is  she  of  a  happy  temper, 
naturally  ?" 

"  Well,  no ;  I  can't  say  that  she  is,  ma'am.  She  is 
too  much  like  her  mother :  ever  looking  for  a  brighter 
day  in  the  future." 

"  And  so  unconscious  of  the  few  gleams  of  sunshine 
that  play  warmly  about  her  feet — " 

"Yes,  yes;  all  very  true;  very  true;"  said  Mrs. 
Elder,  despondingly. 

"  The  days  that  look  so  bright  in  the  future,  never 
come." 

"  They  have  never  come  to  me."  And  the  sick  wo 
man  shook  her  head  mournfully.  "  Long,  long  ago,  I 
ceased  to  expect  them."  And  yet,  in  almost  the  next* 
breath,  Mrs.  Elder  said : 

"  If  Lotty  were  only  here,  I  think  I  would  be  happy 
again." 

"  You  must  try  and  extract  some  grains  of  comfort 
even  from  the  present,"  replied  the  kind-hearted  visitor. 
"  Consider  me  your  friend,  and  look  to  me  for  whatever 
is  needed.  I  have  brought  you  over  some  tea-and  sugar, 
a  loaf  of  bread,  and  some  nice  pieces  of  ham.  Here  are 
half  a  dozen  fresh  eggs  besides,  and  a  glass  of  jelly. 
In  the  morning  I  will  send  one  of  my  girls  to  put  every 
thing  in  order  for  you,  and  clear  your  rooms  up  nicehr. 


16  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

Let  Betsy  lay  out  all  your  soiled  clothing,  and  I  will 
have  it  washed  and  ironed.  So,  cheer  up ;  if  the  day 
opened  with  clouds  in  the  sky,  there  is  light  in  the  west 
at  its  close." 

Mrs.  Markland  spoke  in  a  buoyant  tone ;  and  some 
thing  of  the  spirit  she  wished  to  transfer,  animated  the 
heart  of  Mrs.  Elder. 

As  the  mother  and  her  gentle  child  went  back,  through 
the  deepening  twilight,  to  their  home  of  luxury  and 
taste,  both  were,  for  much  of  the  way,  silent ;  the  former 
musing  on  what  she  had  seen  and  heard,  and,  like  the 
wise  bee,  seeking  to  gather  whatever  honey  could  be 
found :  the  latter,  happy-hearted,  from  causes  the  reader 
has  seen. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

•  "  WALKING  here  yet,  Edward  ?"  said  Mrs.  Markland, 
as  she  joined  her  husband  in  the  spacious  portico,  after 
her  return  from  the  sick  woman's  cottage  ;  and  drawing 
her  arm  within  his,  she  moved  along  by  his  side.  He 
did  not  respond  to  her  remark,  and  she  continued : — 

"  Italy  never  saw  a  sunset  sky  more  brilliant.  Painter 
never  threw  on  canvas  colours  so  full  of  a  living  beauty. 
Deep  purple  and  lucent  azure, — crimson  and  burnished 
gold !  And  that  far-off  island-cloud — 

1 A  Delos  in  the  airy  ocean — ' 

seems  it  not  a  floating  elysium  for  happy  souls?" 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  17 

"All  lovely  as  Nature  herself,"  answered  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  abstractedly,  as  his  eyes  sought  the  western  hori 
zon,  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  sun  went  down, 
he  noticed  the  golden  glories  of  the  Occident. 

"Ah!  Edward!  Edward!"  said  Mrs.  Markland, 
chidingly,  "  You  are  not  only  in  the  world,  but  of  the 
world." 

"  Of  the  earth,  earthy,  did  you  mean  to  say,  my  gentle 
monitor?"  returned  the  husband,  leaning  towards  his 
wife. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  I  did  not  mean  grovelling  or  sordid ; 
and  you  know  I  did  not."  She  spoke  quickly  and  with 
mock  resentment. 

"Am  I  very  worldly-minded?" 

"  I  did  not  use  the  term." 

"  You  said  I  was  not  only  in  the  world,  but  of  it." 

"  Well,  and  so  you  are ;  at  least  in  a  degree.  It  is 
the  habit  of  the  world  to  close  its  eyes  to  the  real  it 
possesses,  and  aspire  after  an  ideal  good." 

"And  do  you  find  that  defect  in  me,  Agnes?" 

"  Where  was  thought  just  now,  that  your  eyes  were 
not  able  to  bring  intelligence  to  your  mind  of  this  glo 
rious  sunset?" 

"  Thought  would  soon  become  a  jaded  beast  of  burden, 
Agnes,  if  always  full  laden  with  the  present,  and  the 
actually  existent.  Happily,  like  Pegasus,  it  has  broad 
and  strong  pinions — can  rise  free  from  the  prisoner's 
cell  and  the  rich  man's  dainty  palace.  Free  !  free ! 
How  the  heart  swells,  elated  and  with  a  sense  of  power, 
at  this  noble  word — Freedom!  It  has  a  trumpet- 
tone." 

B  2* 


18  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

"  Softly,  softly,  my  good  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land.  "  This  is  all  enthusiasm." 

"  And  but  for  enthusiasm,  where  would  the  world  be 
now,  my  sweet  philosopher?" 

"  I  am  no  philosopher,  and  have  but  little  enthusiasm. 
So  we  are  not  on  equal  ground  for  an  argument.  I 
don't  know  where  the  world  would  be  under  the  circum 
stances  you  allege,  and  so  won't  pretend  to  say.  But 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  do  know. 

"I  am  all  attention." 

"  That  if  people  would  gather  up  each  day  the  bless 
ings  that  are  scattered  like  unseen  pearls  about  their 
feet,  the  world  would  be  rich  in  contentment." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Agnes  ;  I've  been  studying 
for  the  last  half  hour  over  this  very  proposition." 

"  Indeed !  and  what  is  the  conclusion  at  which  you 
have  arrived?" 

"Why,  that  discontent  with  the  present,  is  a  law  of 
our  being,  impressed  by  the  Creator,  that  we  may  ever 
aspire  after  the  more  perfect." 

"I  am  far  from  believing,  Edward,"  said  his  wife, 
"  that  a  discontented  present  is  any  preparation  for  a 
happy  future.  Rather,  in  the  wooing  of  sweet  Content 
to-day,  are  we  making  a  home  for  her  in  our  hearts, 
where  she  may  dwell  for  all  time  to  come — yea,  forever 
and  forever." 

"Beautifully  said,  Agnes;  but  is  that  man  living 
whose  heart  asks  not  something  more  than  it  possesses 
— who  does  not  look  to  a  coming  time  with  vague  antici 
pations  of  a  higher  good  than  he  has  yet  received  ?" 

"It  may  be  all  so,  Edward — doubtless  is  so — but 


THE  GOOD    TIME   COMING.  19 

what  then  ?  Is  the  higher  good  we  pine  for  of  this 
world?  Nay,  my  husband.  We  should  not  call  a 
spirit  of  discontent  with  our  mere  natural  surroundings 
a  law  of  the  Creator,  established  as  a  spur  to  advance 
ment  ;  for  this  disquietude  is  but  the  effect  of  a  deeper 
cause.  It  is  not  change  of  place,  but  change  of  state 
that  we  need.  Not  a  going  from  one  point  in  space  to 
another,  but  a  progression  of  the  spirit  in  the  way  of 
life  eternal." 

"  You  said  just  now,  Agnes,  that  you  were  no  philos- 
pher."  Mr.  Markland's  voice  had  lost  much  of  its 
firmness.  "  But  what  would  I  not  give  to  possess  some 
of  your  philosophy.  Doubtless  your  words  are  true; 
for  there  must  be  a  growth  and  progression  of  the  spirit 
as  well  as  of  the  body ;  for  all  physical  laws  have  their 
origin  in  the  world  of  mind,  and  bear  thereto  exact  re 
lations.  Yet,  for  all  this,  when  there  is  a  deep  dissatis 
faction  with  what  exists  around  us,  should  we  not  seek 
for  change  ?  Will  not  a  removal  from  one  locality  to 
another,  and  an  entire  change  of  pursuits,  give  the  mind 
a  new  basis  in  natural  things,  and  thus  furnish  ground 
upon  which  it  may  stand  and  move  forward  ?" 

"  Perhaps,  if  the  ground  given  us  to  stand  upon 
were  rightly  tilled,  it  would  yield  a  richer  harvest  than 
any  we  shall  ever  find,  though  we  roam  the  world  over ; 
and  it  may  be,  that  the  narrow  path  to  heaven  lies  just 
across  our  own  fields.  It  is  in  the  actual  and  the  pre 
sent  that  we  are  to  seek  a  true  development  of  our 
spiritual  life.  'Work  while  it  is  to-day,'  is  the  Divine 
injunction." 

"  But  if  we  can  find  no  work,  Agnes  ?" 


20  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"If  the  heart  be  willing  and  the  hands  ready,"  was 
the  earnestly  spoken  answer,  "work  enough  will  be 
found  to  do." 

"  I  have  a  willing  heart,  Agnes, — I  have  ready  hands 
— but  the  heart  is  wearied  of  its  own  fruitless  desires, 
and  the  hands  hang  down  in  idleness.  What  shall  I 
do  ?  The  work  in  which  I  have  found  so  much  delight 
for  years,  is  completed;  and  now  the  restless  mind 
springs  away  from  this  lovely  Eden,  and  pines  for  new 
fields  in  which  to  display  its  powers.  Here  I  fondly 
hoped  to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  life — contented — 
happy.  The  idea  was  a  dreamy  illusion.  Daily  is  this 
seen  in  clear  light.  I  reprove  myself ;  I  chide  the  folly, 
as  I  call  it ;  but,  all  in  vain.  Beauty  for  me,  has  faded 
from  the  landscape,  and  the  air  is  no  longer  balmy  with 
odours.  The  birds  sing  for  my  ears  no  more ;  I  hear  not, 
as  of  old,  the  wind  spirits  whispering  to  each  other  in 
the  tree  tops.  Dear  Agnes  ! — wife  of  my  heart — what 
does  it  mean  ?" 

An  answer  was  on  the  lip  of  Mrs.  Markland,  but 
words  so  unlocked  for,  swelled,  suddenly,  the  wave  of 
emotion  in  her  heart,  and  she  could  not  speak.  A  few 
moments  her  hand  trembled  on  the  arm  of  her  husband. 
Then  it  was  softly  removed,  and  without  a  word,  she 
passed  into  the  house,  and  going  to  her  own  room,  shut 
the  door,  and  sat  down  in  the  darkness  to  commune 
with  her  spirit.  And  first,  there  came  a  gush  of  tears. 
These  were  for  herself.  A  shadow  had  suddenly  fallen 
upon  the  lovely  home  where  she  had  hoped  to  spend  all  the 
days  of  her  life — a  shadow  from  a  storm-boding  cloud. 
Even  from  the  beginning  of  their  wedded  life,  she  had 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  21 

marked  in  her  husband  a  defect  of  character,  which, 
gaining  strength,  had  led  to  his  giving  up  business,  and 
their  retirement  to  the  country.  That  defect  was  the 
common  one,  appertaining  to  all,  a  looking  away  from 
the  present  into  the  future  for  the  means  of  enjoyment. 
In  all  the  years  of  his  earnest  devotion  to  business,  Mr. 
Markland  had  kept  his  eye  steadily  fixed  upon  the 
object  now  so  completely  attained;  and  much  of  present 
enjoyment  had  been  lost  in  the  eager  looking  forward 
for  this  coveted  time.  And  now,  that  more  than  all  his 
fondest  anticipations  were  realized,  only  for  a  brief 
period  did  he  hold  to  his  lips  the  cup  full  of  anticipated 
delight.  Already  his  hand  felt  the  impulse  that  moved 
him  to  pour  its  crystal  waters  upon  the  ground. 

Mrs.  Markland's  clear  appreciation  of  her  husband's 
character  was  but  a  prophecy  of  the  future.  She  saw 
that  Woodbine  Lodge — now  grown  into  her  affections, 
and  where  she  hoped  to  live  and  die — even  if  it  did  not 
pass  from  their  possession — bartered  for  some  glittering 
toy — could  not  remain  their  permanent  home.  For  this 
flowed  her  first  tears ;  and  these,  as  we  have  said,  were 
for,  herself.  But  her  mind  soon  regained  its  serenity ; 
and  from  herself,  her  thoughts  turned  to  her  husband. 
She  was  unselfish  enough  not  only  to  be  able  to  realize 
something  of  his  state  of  mind,  but  to  sympathize  with 
him,  and  pity  his  inability  to  find  contentment  in  the 
actual.  This  state  of  mind  she  regarded  as  a  disease, 
and  love  prompted  all  self-denial  for  his  sake. 

"  I  can  be  happy  any  where,  if  only  my  husband  and 
children  are  left.  My  husband,  so  generous,  so  noble- 
minded — my  children,  so  innocent,  so  loving." 


22  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Instantly  the  fountain  of  tears  were  closed.  These 
unselfish  words,  spoken  in  her  own  heart,  checked  the 
briny  current.  Not  for  an  instant  did  Mrs.  Markland 
seek  to  deceive  herself  or  hearken  to  the  suggestion  that 
it  was  but  a  passing  state  in  the  partner  of  her  life. 
She  knew  too  well  the  origin  of  his  disquietude  to  hope 
for  its  removal.  In  a  little  while,  she  descended  and 
joined  her  family  in  the  sitting-room,  where  the  soft 
astral  diffused  its  pleasant  light,  and  greeted  her  sober- 
minded  husband  with  loving  smiles  and  cheerful  words. 
And  he  was  deceived.  Not  for  an  instant  imagined  he, 
after  looking  upon  her  face,  that  she  had  passed  through 
a  painful,  though  brief  conflict,  and  was  now  possessed 
of  a  brave  heart  for  any  change  that  might  come.  But 
he  had  not  thought  of  leaving  Woodbine  Lodge.  Far 
distant  was  this  from  his  imagination.  True — but 
Agnes  looked  with  a  quick  intuition  from  cause  to 
effect.  The  elements  of  happiness  no  longer  existed 
here  for  her  husband ;  or,  if  they  did  exist,  he  had  not 
the  skill  to  find  them,  and  the  end  would  be  a  searching 
elsewhere  for  the  desired  possession. 

"You  did  not  answer  my  question,  Agnes,"  said  Mr. 
Markland,  after  the  children  had  retired  for  the  evening, 
and  they  were  again  alone. 

"What  question?"  inquired  Mrs.  Markland;  and,  as 
she  lifted  her  eyes,  he  saw  that  they  were  dim  with 
tears. 

"What  troubles  you,  dear?"  he  asked,  tenderly. 

"Mrs.  Markland  forced  a  smile,  as  she  replied,  "Why 
should  I  be  troubled  ?  Have  I  not  every  good  gift  the 
heart  can  desire?" 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  23 

"And  yet,  Agnes,  your  eyes  are  full  of  tears." 

"Are  they?"  A  light  shone  through  their  watery 
vail.  "Only  an  April  shadow,  Edward,  that  is  quickly 
lost  in  April  sunshine.  But  your  question  is  not  so 
easily  answered." 

"  I  ought  to  be  perfectly  happy  here  ;  nothing  seems 
wanting.  Yet  my  spirit  is  like  a  caged  bird  that  flutters 
against  its  prison-bars." 

"Oh,  no,  Edward;  not  so  bad  as  that,"  replied  Mrs. 
Markland.  "You  speak  in  hyperbole.  This  lovely 
place,  which  everywhere  shows  the  impress  of  your  hand, 
id  not  a  prison.  Call  it,  rather,  a  paradise." 

"  A  paradise  I  sought  to  make  it.  But  I  am  content 
no  longer  to  be  an  idle  lingerer  among  its  pleasant 
groves ;  for  I  have  ceased  to  feel  the  inspiration  of  its 
loveliness." 

Mrs.  Markland  made  no  answer.  After  a  silence 
of  some  minutes,  her  husband  said,  with  a  slight  hesi 
tation  in  his  voice,  as  if  uncertain  as  to  the  effect  of 
his  words — 

"  I  have  for  some  time  felt  a  strong  desire  to  visit 
Europe." 

The  colour  receded  from  Mrs.  Markland' s  face ;  and 
there  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  her  husband  did  not 
quite  understand,  as  they  rested  steadily  in  his. 

"  I  have  the  means  and  the  leisure,"  he  added,  "and 
the  tour  would  not  only  be  one  of  pleasure,  but  profit." 

"True,"  said  his  wife,  and  then  her  face  was  bent 
down  so  low  that  he  could  not  see  its  expression  for  the 
shadows  by  which  it  was  partially  concealed. 

"We  would  both  enjoy  the  trip  exceedingly." 


24  THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

"Both !     You  did  not  think  of  taking  me  ?" 

"  Why,  Aggy,  dear  ! — as  if  I  could  dream  for  a  mo 
ment  of  any  pleasure  in  which  you  had  not  a  share  !" 

So  earnestly  and  tenderly  was  this  said,  that  Mrs. 
Markland  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  tremble  over  her  heart 
strings.  And  yet,  for  all,  she  could  not  keep  back  the 
overflowing  tears,  but  hid  her  face,  to  conceal  them,  on 
her  husband's  bosom. 

Her  true  feelings  Mr.  Markland  did  not  read :  and 
often,  as  he  mused  on  what  appeared  singular  in  her 
manner  that  evening,  he  was  puzzled  to  comprehend  its 
meaning.  Nor  had  his  vision  ever  penetrated  deep 
enough  to  see  all  that  was  in  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  memory  of  what  passed  between  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Markland  remained  distinct  enough  in  both  their  minds, 
on  the  next  morning,  to  produce  thoughtfulness  and  re 
serve.  The  night  to  each  had  been  restless  and  wake 
ful  ;  and  in  the  snatches  of  sleep  which  came  at  weary 
intervals  were  dreams  that  brought  no  tranquillizing  in 
fluence. 

The  mother's  dally  duty,  entered  into  from  love  to 
her  children,  soon  lifted  her  mind  into  a  sunnier  region, 
and  calmed  her  pulse  to  an  even  stroke.  But  the  spirit 
of  Markland  was  more  disturbed,  more  restless,  more 
dissatisfied  with  himself  and  every  thing  around  him, 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  25 

than  when  first  introduced  to  the  reader's  acquaintance. 
He  eat  sparingly  at  the  breakfast-table,  and  with  only  a 
slight  relish.  A  little  forced  conversation  took  place 
between  him  and  his  wife ;  but  the  thoughts  of  both 
were  remote  from  the  subject  introduced.  After  break 
fast,  Mr.  Markland  strolled  over  his  handsome  grounds, 
and  endeavoured  to  awaken  in  his  mind  a  new  interest 
in  what  possessed  so  much  of  real  beauty.  But  the  ef 
fort  was  fruitless ;  his  thoughts  were  away  from  the 
scenes  in  which  he  was  actually  present.  Like  a  dreamy 
enthusiast  on  the  sea-shore,  he  saw,  afar  off,  enchanted 
islands  faintly  pictured  on  the  misty  horizon,  and  could 
not  withdraw  his  gaze  from  their  ideal  loveliness. 

A  little  way  from  the  house  was  a  grove,  in  the  midst 
of  which  a  fountain  threw  upward  its  refreshing  wa 
ters,  that  fell  plashing  into  a  marble  basin,  and  then 
went  gurgling  musically  along  over  shining  pebbles. 
How  often,  with  his  gentle  partner  by  his  side,  had 
Markland  lingered  here,  drinking  in  delight  from  every 
fair  object  by  which  they  were  surrounded !  Now  he 
wandered  amid  its  cool  recesses,  or  sat  by  the  fountain, 
without  having  even  a  faint  picture  of  the  scene  mir 
rored  in  his  thoughts.  It  was  true,  as  he  had  said, 
" Beauty  had  faded  from  the  landscape;  the  air  was  no 
longer  balmy  with  odours ;  the  birds  sang  for  his  ears 
no  more ;  he  heard  not,  as  of  old,  the  wind-spirits  whis 
pering  to  each  other  in  the  tree-tops;"  and  he  sighed 
deeply  as  a  half-consciousness  of  the  change  disturbed 
his  reverie.  A  footfall  reached  his  ears,  and,  looking 
up,  he  saw  a  neighbour  approaching:  a  man  somewhat 
past  the  prime  of  life,  who  came  toward  him  with  a 


26  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

familiar  smile,  and,  as  he  offered  his  hand,  said  plea 
santly — 

"  Good  morning,  Friend  Markland." 

"Ah!  good  morning,  Mr.  Allison,"  was  returned 
with  a  forced  cheerfulness ;  "  I  am  happy  to  meet  you." 

"And  happy  always,  I  may  be  permitted  to  hope," 
said  Mr.  Allison,  as  his  mild  yet  intelligent  eyes  rested 
on  the  face  of  his  neighbour. 

"I  doubt,"  answered  Mr.  Markland,  in  a  voice  slightly 
depressed  from  the  tone  in  which  he  had  first  spoken, 
"  whether  that  state  ever  comes  in  this  life." 

"Happiness?"  inquired  the  other. 

"  Perpetual  happiness ;  nay,  even  momentary  happi 
ness." 

"  If  the  former  comes  not  to  any,"  said  Mr.  Allison, 
"  the  latter,  I  doubt  not,  is  daily  enjoyed  by  thousands." 

Mr.  Markland  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied — 

"  Take  my  case,  for  instance  ;  I  speak  of  myself,  be 
cause  my  thought  has  been  turning  to  myself;  there  are 
few  elements  of  happiness  that  I  do  not  possess,  and  yet 
I  cannot  look  back  to  the  time  when  I  was  happy." 

"I  hardly  expected  this  from  you,  Mr.  Markland," 
said  the  neighbour;  "to  my  observation,  you  always 
seemed  one  of  the  most  cheerful  of  men." 

"I  never  was  a  misanthrope  ;  I  never  was  positively 
unhappy.  No,  I  have  been  too  earnest  a  worker.  But 
there  is  no  disguising  from  myself  the  fact,  now  I  reflect 
upon  it,  that  I  have  known  but  little  true  enjoyment  as  I 
moved  along  my  way  through  life." 

"  I  must  be  permitted  to  believe,"  replied  Mr.  Alli 
son,  "  that  you  are  not  reading  aright  your  past  history. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  27 

I  have  been  something  of  an  observer  of  men  and  things, 
and  my  experience  leads  me  to  this  conclusion." 

"  He  who  has  felt  the  pain,  Mr.  Allison,  bears  ever 
after  the  memory  of  its  existence." 

"And  the  marks,  too,  if  the  pain  has  been  as  pro 
longed  and  severe  as  your  words  indicate." 

"  But  such  marks,  in  your  case,  are  not  visible.  That 
you  have  not  always  found  the  pleasure  anticipated — 
that  you  have  looked  restlessly  away  from  the  present, 
longing  for  some  other  good  than  that  laid  by  the  hand 
of  a  benignant  Providence  at  your  feet,  I  can  well  be 
lieve  ;  for  this  is  my  own  history,  as  well  as  yours  :  it  is 
the  history  of  all  mankind." 

"  Now  you  strike  the  true  chord,  Mr.  Allison.  Now 
you  state  the  problem  I  have  not  skill  to  solve.  Why  is 
this?" 

"  Ah  !  if  the  world  had  skill  to  solve  that  problem," 
said  the  neighbour,  "  it  would  be  a  wiser  and  happier 
world ;  but  only  to  a  few  is  this  given." 

"  What  is  the  solution  ?     Can  you  declare  it  ?" 

"  I  fear  you  would  not  believe  the  answer  a  true  one. 
There  is  nothing  in  it  nattering  to  human  nature ;  no 
thing  that  seems  to  give  the  weary,  selfish  heart  a  pillow 
to  rest  upon.  In  most  cases  it  has  a  mocking  sound." 

"  You  have  taught  me  more  than  one  life-lesson,  Mr. 
Allison.  Speak  freely  now.  I  will  listen  patiently, 
earnestly,  looking  for  instruction.  Why  are  we  so  rest 
less  and  dissatisfied  in  the  present,  even  though  all  of 
earthly  good  surrounds  us,  and  ever  looking  far  away 
into  the  uncertain  future  for  the  good  that  never  comes, 
or  that  loses  its  brightest  charms  in  possession?" 


28  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Because,"  said  the  old  man,  speaking  slowly,  and 
with  emphasis,  "we  are  mere  self-seekers." 

Mr.  Markland  had  bent  toward  him,  eager  for  the 
answer ;  but  the  words  fell  coldly,  and  with  scarce  a  ray 
of  intelligence  in  them,  on  his  ears.  He  sighed  faintly 
and  leaned  back  in  his  seat,  while  a  look  of  disappoint 
ment  shadowed  his  countenance. 

"  Can  you  understand,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "  the  pro 
position  that  man,  aggregated,  as  well  as  in  the  indi 
vidual,  is  in  the  human  form  ?" 

Markland  gazed  inquiringly  into  the  questioner's  face. 

"In  the  human  form  as  to  uses  ?"  said  Mr.  Allison. 

"  How  as  to  uses?" 

"Aggregate  men  into  larger  or  smaller  bodies,  and, 
in  the  attainment  of  ends  proposed,  you  will  find  some 
directing,  as  the  head,  and  some  executing,  as  the 
hands." 

"  True." 

"  Society,  then,  is  only  a  man  in  a  larger  form.  Now, 
there  are  voluntary,  as  well  as  involuntary  associations; 
the  voluntary,  such  as,  from  certain  ends,  individuals 
form  one  with  another ;  the  involuntary,  that  of  the 
common  society  in  which  we  live.  Let  us  look  for  a 
moment  at  the  voluntary  association,  and  consider  it  as 
man  in  a  larger  form.  You  see  how  all  thought  con 
spires  to  a  single  end,  and  how  judgment  speaks  in  a 
single  voice.  The  very  first  act  of  organization  is  to 
choose  a  head  for  direction,  and  hands  to  execute  the 
will  of  this  larger  man.  And  now  mark  well  this  fact : 
Efficient  action  by  this  aggregated  man  depends  wholly 
upon  the  unselfish  exercise  by  each  part  of  its  function 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  29 

for  the  good  of  the  whole.  Defect  and  disorder  arise 
the  moment  the  head  seeks  power  or  aggrandizement  for 
itself,  the  hands  work  for  their  good  alone,  or  the  feet 
strive  to  bear  the  body  along  the  paths  they  only  wish 
to  tread.  Disease  follows,  if  the  evil  is  not  remedied ; 
disease,  the  sure  precursor  of  dissolution.  How  dis 
turbed  and  unhappy  each  member  of  such  an  aggregated 
man  must  be,  you  can  at  once  perceive. 

"If  it  is  so  in  the  voluntary  man  of  larger  form,  how 
can  it  be  different  in  the  involuntary  man,  or  the  man 
of  common  society  ? 

"  Of  this  great  body  you  are  a  member.  In  it  you 
are  sustained,  and  live  by  virtue  of  its  wonderful  organ 
ization.  From  the  blood  circulating  in  its  veins  you 
obtain  nutrition,  and  as  its  feet  move  forward,  you  are 
borne  onward  in  the  general  progression.  From  all  its 
active  senses  you  receive  pleasure  or  intelligence ;  and 
yet  this  larger  man  of  society  is  diseased — all  see,  all 
feel,  all  lament  this — fearfully  diseased.  It  contains 
not  a  single  member  that  does  not  suffer  pain.  You  are 
not  exempt,  favourable  as  is  your  position.  If  you  en 
joy  the  good  attained  by  the  whole,  you  have  yet  to 
bear  a  portion  of  the  evil  suffered  by  the  whole.  Let 
me  add,  that  if  you  find  the  cause  of  unhappiness  in 
this  larger  man,  you  will  find  it  in  yourself.  Think  ! 
Where  does  it  lie  ? 

"You  have  given  me  the  clue,"  replied  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  "  in  your  picture  of  the  voluntarily  aggregated 
man.  In  this  involuntary  man  of  common  society,  to 
which,  as  you  have  said,  we  all  bear  relation  as  members, 
each  seeks  his  own  good,  regardless  of  the  good  of  the 

3* 


30  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

whole ;  and  there  is,  therefore,  a  constant  war  among 
the  members." 

"And  if  not  war,  suffering,"  said  Mr.  Allison.  "This 
man  is  sustained  by  a  community  of  uses  among  the 
members.  In  the  degree  that  each  member  performs 
his  part  well,  is  the  whole  body  served  ;  and  in  the  de 
gree  that  each  member  neglects  his  work,  does  the  whole 
body  suffer." 

"If  each  worked  for  himself,  all  would  be  served," 
answered  Mr.  Markland.  "  It  is  because  so  many  will 
not  work  for  themselves,  that  so  many  are  in  want  and 
suffering." 

"  In  the  very  converse  of  this  lies  the  true  philosophy ; 
and  until  the  world  has  learned  the  truth,  disorder  and 
unhappiness  will  prevail.  The  eye  does  not  see  for 
itself,  nor  the  ear  hearken ;  the  feet  do  not  walk,  nor 
the  hands  labour  for  themselves ;  but  each  freely,  and 
from  an  affection  for  the  use  in  which  it  is  engaged, 
serves  the  whole  body,  while  every  organ  or  member  of 
the  body  conspires  to  sustain  it.  See  how  beautifully 
the  eyes  direct  the  hands,  guiding  them  in  every  minute 
particular,  while  the  heart  sends  blood  to  sustain  them 
in  their  labours,  and  the  feet  bear  them  to  the  appointed 
place ;  and  the  hands  work  not  for  themselves,  but  that 
the  whole  body  may  be  nourished  and  clothed.  "Where 
each  regards  the  general  good,  each  is  best  served.  Can 
you  not  see  this,  Mr.  Markland?" 

"  I  can,  to  a  certain  extent.  The  theory  is  beautiful, 
as  applied  to  your  man  of  common  society.  But,  unfor 
tunately,  it  will  not  work  in  practice.  We  must  wait 
for  the  millennium." 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  31 

"The  millennium?" 

"Yes,  that  good  time  -coming,  toward  which  the 
Christian  world  looks  with  such  a  pleasing  interest." 

"  A  time  to  be  ushered  in  by  proclamation,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  How,  and  when,  and  where  it  is  to  begin,  I  am  not 
advised,"  said  Mr.  Markham,  smiling.  "  All  Christians 
expect  it ;  and  many  have  set  the  beginning  thereof 
near  about  this  time." 

"  What  if  it  have  begun  already  ?" 

"Already!  Where  is  the  sign,  pray?  It  has  cer 
tainly  escaped  my  observation.  If  the  Lord  had  ac 
tually  come  to  reign  a  thousand  years,  surely  the  world 
would  know  it.  In  what  favoured  region  has  he  made  his 
second  advent?" 

"Is  it  not  possible  that  the  Christian  world  may  be 
in  error  as  to  the  manner  of  this  second  coming,  that  is 
to  usher  in  the  millennium  ?" 

"Yes,  very.  I  don't  see,  that  in  all  prophecy,  there 
is  any  thing  definite  on  the  subject." 

"  Nothing  more  definite  than  there  was  in  regard  to 
the  first  coming  ?" 

"No." 

"And  yet,  while  in  their  very  midst,  even  though 
miracles  were  wrought  for  them;  the  Jews  did  not 
know  the  promised  Messiah. 

"True." 

"They  expected  a  king  in  regal  state,  and  an  as 
sumption  of  visible  power.  They  looked  for  marked 
political  changes.  And  when  the  Lord  said  to 
them,  '  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,'  they  denied 
and  rejected  him.  Now,  is  it  not  a  possible  case,  that 


32  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

the  present  generation,  on  this  subject,  may  be  no  wiser 
than  the  Jews?" 

"  Not  a  very  flattering  conclusion,"  said  Markland. 
"  The  age  is  certainly  more  enlightened,  and  the  world 
wiser  and  better  than  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago." 

"And  therefore,"  answered  Mr.  Allison,  "  the  better 
prepared  to  understand  this  higher  truth,  which  it  was 
impossible  for  the  Jews  to  comprehend,  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  is  within  us." 

"  Within  us  ! — within  us  !"  Markland  repeated  the 
words  two  or  three  times,  as  if  there  were  in  them 
gleams  of  light  which  had  never  before  dawned  upon 
his  mind. 

"  Of  one  thing  you  may  be  assured,"  said  Mr.  Alli 
son,  speaking  with  some  earnestness  ;  "  the  millennium 
will  commence  only  when  men  begin  to  observe  the 
Golden  Kule.  If  there  are  any  now  living  who  in  all 
sincerity  strive  to  repress  their  selfish  inclinations,  and 
seek  the  good  of  others  from  genuine  neighbourly  love, 
then  the  millennium  has  begun ;  and  it  will  never  be  fully 
ushered  in,  until  that  law  of  unselfish,  reciprocal  uses 
that  rules  in  our  physical  man  becomes  the  law  of  com 
mon  society. ' 

"  Are  there  any  such?" 

"  Who  seek  the  good  of  others  from  a  genuine  neigh 
bourly  love  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  Then  you  think  the  millennium  has  commenced?" 

"I  do." 

"The  beginning  must  be  very  small.     The  light  hid 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  33 

under  a  bushel.  Now  I  have  been  led  to  expect  that 
this  light,  whenever  it  came,  would  be  placed  on  a  can 
dlestick,  to  give  light  unto  all  in  the  house." 

"May  it  not  be  shining?  Nay,  may  there  not  be 
light  in  all  the  seven  golden  candlesticks,  without  your 
eyes  being  attracted  thereby  ?" 

"  I  will  not  question  your  inference.  It  may  all  be 
possible.  But  your  words  awaken  in  my  mind  but  vague 
conceptions." 

"  The  history  of  the  world,  as  well  as  your  own  ob 
servation,  will  tell  you  that  all  advances  toward  perfec 
tion  are  made  with  slow  steps.  And  further,  that  all 
changes  in  the  character  of  a  whole  people  simply  indi 
cate  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  the  individ 
uals  who  compose  that  people.  The  national  character 
is  but  its  aggregated  personal  character.  If  the  world 
is  better  now  than  it  was  fifty  years  ago,  it  is  because 
individual  men  and  women  are  becoming  better — that  is, 
less  selfish,  for  in  self-love  lies  the  germ  of  all  evil. 
The  Millennium  must,  therefore,  begin  with  the  individ 
ual.  And  so,  as  it  comes  not  by  observation — or  with  a 
i  lo !  here,  and  lo !  there' — men  are  not  conscious  of  its 
presence.  Yet  be  assured,  my  friend,  that  the  time  is 
at  hand ;  and  that  every  one  who  represses,  through  the 
higher  power  given  to  all  who  ask  for  it,  the  promptings 
of  self-love,  and  strives  to  act  from  a  purified  love  of 
the  neighbour,  is  doing  his  part,  in  the  only  way  he  can 
do  it,  toward  hastening  the  time  when  the  'wolf  also 
shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  the  leopard  shall  lie  down 
with  the  kid ;  and  the  calf,  and  the  young  lion,  and  the 

fatling  together;  and  a  little  child  shall  lead  them.'  " 
C 


34  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Have  we  not  wandered,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  after 
a  few  moments  of  thoughtful  silence,  "from  the  subject 
at  first  proposed?" 

"  I  have  said  more  than  I  intended,"  was  answered, 
"  but  not,  I  think,  irrelevantly.  If  you  are  not  happy, 
it  is  because,  like  an  inflamed  organ  in  the  human  body, 
you  are  receiving  more  blood  than  is  applied  to  nutri 
tion.  As  a  part  of  the  larger  social  man,  you  are  not 
using  the  skill  you  possess  for  the  good  of  the  whole. 
You  are  looking  for  the  millennium,  but  not  doing  your 
part  toward  hastening  its  general  advent.  And  now, 
Mr.  Markland,  if  what  I  have  said  be  true,  can  you 
wonder  at  being  the  restless,  dissatisfied  man  you  repre 
sent  yourself  to  be?" 

"If  your  premises  be  sound,  your  conclusions  are 
true  enough"  answered  Markland,  with  some  coldness 
and  abstraction  of  manner.  The  doctrine  was  neither 
flattering  to  his  reason,  nor  agreeable  to  his  feelings. 
He  was  too  confirmed  a  lover  of  himself  to  receive 
willingly  teaching  like  this.  A  type  of  the  mass  around 
him,  he  was  content  to  look  down  the  dim  future  for 
signs  of  the  approaching  millennium,  instead  of  into  his 
own  heart.  He  could  give  hundreds  of  dollars  in  aid 
of  missions  to  convert  the  heathen,  and  to  bring  in  the 
islands  of  the  sea,  as  means  of  hastening  the  expected 
time  ;  but  was  not  ready,  as  a  surer  means  to  this  end, 
to  repress  a  single  selfish  impulse  of  his  nature. 

The  conversation  was  still  further  prolonged,  with 
but  slight  change  in  the  subject.  At  parting  with  his 
neighbour,  Markland  found  himself  more  disturbed  than 
before.  A  sun  ray  had  streamed  suddenly  into  the 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  35 

darkened  chambers  of  his  mind,  disturbing  the  night 
birds  there,  and  dimly  revealing  an  inner  world  of  dis 
order,  from  which  his  eyes  vainly  sought  to  turn  them 
selves.  If  the  mental  disease  from  which  he  was  suffer 
ing  had  its  origin  in  the  causes  indicated  by  Mr.  Alli 
son,  there  seemed  little  hope  of  a  cure  in  his  case.  How 
was  he,  who  all  his  life  long  had  regarded  himself,  and 
those  who  were  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  as  only  to 
be  thought  of  and  cared  for,  to  forget  himself,  and  seek, 
as  the  higher  end  of  his  existence,  the  good  of  others? 
The  thought  created  no  quicker  heart-beat — threw  no 
warmer  tint  on  the  ideal  future  toward  which  his  eyes 
of  late  had  so  fondly  turned  themselves.  To  live  for 
others  and  not  for  himself — this  was  to  extinguish  his 
very  life.  What  were  others  to  him  ?  All  of  his  world 
was  centred  in  his  little  home-circle.  Alas!  that  its 
power  to  fill  the  measure  of  his  desires  was  gone — its 
brightness  dimmed — its  attraction  a  binding-spell  no 
longer ! 

And  so  Markland  strove  to  shut  out  from  his  mind 
the  light  shining  in  through  the  little  window  opened  by 
Mr.  Allison ;  but  the  effort  was  in  vain.  Steadily  the 
light  came  in,  disturbing  the  owls  and  bats,  and  reveal 
ing  dust,  cankering  mould,  and  spider-web  obstructions. 
All  on  the  outside  was  fair  to  the  world ;  and  as  •  fair, 
he  had  believed,  within.  To  be  suddenly  shown  his 
error,  smote  him  with  a  painful  sense  of  humiliation. 

"What  is  the  highest  and  noblest  attribute  of  man 
hood?"  Mr.  Allison  had  asked  of  him  during  their  con 
versation. 

Markland  did  not  answer  the  question. 


36  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  The  highest  excellence — the  greatest  glory — the 
truest  honour  must  be  in  God/'  said  the  old  man. 

"  All  will  admit  that,"  retuimed  Markland. 

"  Those,  then,  who  are  most  like  him,  are  most  excel 
lent — most  honourable." 

"Yes." 

"Love,"  continued  Mr.  Allison,  "is  the  very  es 
sential  nature  of  God — not  love  of  self,  but  love  of 
creating  and  blessing  others,  out  of  himself.  Love  of 
self  is  a  monster ;  but  love  of  others  the  essential  spirit 
of  true  manhood,  and  therefore  its  noblest  attribute." 

Markland  bowed  his  head,  convicted  in  his  own  heart 
of  having,  all  his  life  long,  been  a  self-worshipper ;  of 
having  turned  his  eyes  away  from  the  true  type  of  all 
that  was  noble  and  excellent,  and  striven  to  create 
something  of  his  own  that  was  excellent  and  beautiful. 
But,  alas  !  there  was  no  life  in  the  image ;  and  already 
its  decaying  elements  were  an  offence  in  his  nostrils, 

"  In  the  human  body,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "  as  in  the 
human  soul  when  it  came  pure  from  the  hands  of  God, 
there  is  a  likeness  of  the  Creator.  Every  organ  and 
member,  from  the  largest  to  the  most  hidden  and  mi 
nute,  bears  this  likeness,  in  its  unselfish  regard  for  the 
good  of  the  whole  body.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  each, 
in  its  activity,  has  no  respect  primarily  to  its  own  life. 
And  it  is  because  the  human  soul  has  lost  this  likeness 
of  its  loving  Creator,  that  it  is  so  weak,  depraved,  and 
unhappy.  There  must  be  the  restored  image  and  like 
ness,  before  there  be  the  restored  Eden." 

The  noblest  type  of  manhood  !  Never  in  all  his  after 
life  was  Edward  Markland  able  to  shut  out  this  light  of 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  37 

truth  from  his  understanding.  It  streamed  through  the 
little  window,  shining  very  dimly  at  times ;  but  always 
strong  enough  to  show  him  that  unselfish  love  was  man's 
highest  attribute,  and  self-love  a  human  monster. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHILE  Mr.  Markland  was  brooding  over  his  own  un 
happy  state,  and  seeking  to  shut  out  the  light  shining 
too  strongly  in  upon  his  real  quality  of  mind,  Mrs. 
Markland  was  living,  in  some  degree,  the  very  life  that 
seemed  so  unattractive  to  him,  and  receiving  her  mea 
sure  of  reward.  While  he  wandered,  with  an  unquiet 
spirit,  over  his  fields,  or  sat  in  cool  retreats  by  plashing 
fountains,  his  thoughts  reaching  forward  to  embrace  the 
coming  future,  she  was  active  in  works  of  love.  Her 
chief  desire  was  the  good  of  her  beloved  ones,  and  she 
devoted  herself  to  this  object  with  an  almost  entire  for- 
getfulness  of  self.  Home  was  therefore  the  centre  of 
her  thoughts  and  affections,  but  not  the  selfish  centre  : 
beyond  that  happy  circle  often  went  out  her  thoughts, 
laden  with  kind  wishes  that  died  not  fruitless. 

The  family  of  Mr.  Markland  consisted  of  his  wife,  four 
children,  and  a  maiden  sister — Grace  Markland, — the 
latter  by  no  means  one  of  the  worst  specimens  of  her  class. 
With  Agnes,  in  her  seventh  year,  the  reader  has  already 
a  slight  acquaintance.  Francis,  the  baby,  was  two  years 
old,  and  the  pet  of  every  one  but  Aunt  Grace,  who  never 


V 

38  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

did  like  children.  But  he  was  so  sweet  a  little  fellow, 
that  even  the  stiff  maiden  would  bend  toward  him  now 
and  then,  conscious  of  a  warmer  heart-beat.  George, 
who  boasted  of  being  ten — quite  an  advanced  age,  in  his 
estimation — might  almost  be  called  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  to 
Aunt  Grace,  whose  nice  sense  of  propriety  and  decorum 
he  daily  outraged  by  rudeness  and  want  of  order. 
George  was  boy  all  over,  and  a  strongly-marked  speci 
men  of  his  class — "  as  like  his  father,  when  at  his  age, 
as  one  pea  to  another,"  Aunt  Grace  would  say,  as  cer 
tain  memories  of  childhood  presented  themselves  with 
more  than  usual  vividness.  The  boy  was  generally  too 
much  absorbed  in  his  own  purposes  to  think  about  the 
peculiar  claims  to  respect  of  age,  sex,  or  condition.  Al 
most  from  the  time  he  could  toddle  about  the  carpeted 
floor,  had  Aunt  Grace  been  trying  to  teach  him  what 
she  called  manners.  But  he  was  never  an  apt  scholar 
in  her  school.  If  he  mastered  the  ABC  to-day,  most 
probably  on  her  attempt  to  advance  him  to-morrow  into 
his  a-b  ab's,  he  had  wholly  forgotten  the  previous  lesson. 
Poor  Aunt  Grace !  She  saw  no  hope  for  the  boy.  All 
her  labour  was  lost  on  him. 

Fanny,  the  oldest  child,  just  completing  her  seventeenth 
year,  was  of  fair  complexion  and  delicate  frame;  strik 
ingly  beautiful,  and  as  pure  in  mind  as  she  was  lovely 
in  person.  All  the  higher  traits  of  womanhood  that 
gave  such  a  beauty  to  the  mother's  character  were  as 
the  unfolding  bud  in  her.  Every  one  loved  Fanny,  not 
even  excepting  Aunt  Grace,  who  rarely  saw  any  thing 
in  her  niece  that  violated  her  strict  sense  of  propriety. 
Since  the  removal  of  the  family  to  Woodbine  Lodge, 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  39 

the  education  of  Fanny  had  been  under  the  direction  of 
a  highly  accomplished  governess.  In  consequence,  she 
was  quite  withdrawn  from  intercourse  with  young  ladies 
of  her  own  age.  If,  from  this  cause,  she  was  ignorant 
of  many  things  transpiring  in  city  life,  the  purer  atmo 
sphere  she  daily  breathed  gave  a  higher  moral  tone  to 
her  character.  In  all  the  sounder  accomplishments 
Fanny  would  bear  favourable  comparison  with  any ;  and 
as  for  grace  of  person  and  refinement  of  manners,  these 
were  but  the  expression  of  an  inward  sense  of  beauty. 

As  Fanny  unfolded  toward  womanhood,  putting  forth, 
like  an  opening  blossom,  some  newer  charms  each  day, 
the  deep  love  of  her  parents  began  to  assume  the  cha 
racter  of  jealous  fear.  They  could  not  long  hide  from 
other's  eyes  the  treasure  they  possessed,  and  their  hearts 
grew  faint  at  the  thought  of  having  it  pass  into  other 
hands.  But  very  few  years  would  glide  away  ere  wooers 
would  come,  and  seek  to  charm  her  ears  with  songs 
sweeter  than  ever  thrilled  them  in  her  own  happy  home. 
And  there  would  be  a  spell  upon  her  spirit,  so  that  she 
could  not  help  but  listen.  And,  mayhap,  the  song  that 
charmed  her  most  might  come  from  unworthy  lips. 
Such  things  had  been,  alas  ! 

Thus  it  was  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Markland  at  the 
time  of  our  introduction  to  them.  We  have  not  de 
scribed  each  individual  with  minuteness,  but  sufficiently 
indicated  to  give  them  a  place  in  the  reader's  mind. 
The  lights  and  shadows  will  be  more  strongly  marked 
hereafter. 

The  effect  of  Mr.  Allison's  conversation  was,  as  has 
been  seen,  to  leave  Markland  in  a  still  more  dissatisfied 


40  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

state  of  mind.  After  various  fruitless  efforts  to  get  in 
terested  in  what  was  around  him,  and  thus  compel  self- 
forgetfulness,  he  thought  of  some  little  matter  in  the 
city  that  required  his  attention,  and  forthwith  ordered 
the  carriage. 

"I  shall  not  be  home  till  evening,"  he  said,  as  he 
parted  with  his  wife. 

During  the  day,  Mrs.  Markland  paid  another  visit  to 
the  humble  home  of  Mrs.  Elder,  and  ministered  as  well 
to  her  mental  as  to  her  bodily  wants.  She  made  still 
closer  inquiries  about  her  daughter's  family ;  and  espe 
cially  touching  the  husband's  character  for  industry, 
intelligence,  and  trustworthiness.  She  had  a  purpose  in 
this  ;  for  the  earnest  desire  expressed  by  Mrs.  Elder  to 
have  her  daughter  with  her,  had  set  Mrs.  Markland  to 
thinking  about  the  ways  and  means  of  effecting  the 
wished-for  object.  The  poor  woman  was  made  happier 
by  her  visit. 

It  was  near  sundown  when  the  carriage  was  observed 
approaching  through  the  long,  shaded  avenue.  Mrs. 
Markland  and  all  the  children  stood  in  the  porch,  to 
welcome  the  husband  and  father,  whose  absence,  though 
even  for  the  briefest  period,  left  for  their  hearts  a  di 
minished  brightness.  As  the  carriage  drew  nearer,  it 
was  seen  to  contain  two  persons. 

"There  is  some  one  with  your  father,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  speaking  to  Fanny. 

"  A  gentleman — I  wonder  who  it  can  be  ?" 

"  Your  Uncle  George,  probably." 

"No;  it  isn't  Uncle  George,"  said  Fanny,  as  the 
carriage  reached  the  oval  in  front  of  the  house,  and 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  41 

swept  around  towards  the  portico.  "It's  a  younger 
man  ;  and  he  is  dressed  in  black." 

Further  conjecture  was  suspended  by  the  presence  of 
the  individual  in  regard  to  whom  they  were  in  doubt. 
He  was  a  stranger,  and  Mr.  Markland  presented  him  as 
Mr.  Lyon,  son  of  an  old  and  valued  business  correspon 
dent,  residing  in  Liverpool.  A  cordial  welcome  awaited 
Mr.  Lyon  at  Woodbine  Lodge,  as  it  awaited  all  who 
were  introduced  by  the  gentlemanly  owner.  If  Mr. 
Markland  thought  well  enough  of  any  one  to  present 
him  at  home,  the  home-circle  opened  smilingly  to  re 
ceive. 

The  stranger  was  a  young  man,  somewhere  between 
the  ages  of  twenty-five  and  thirty ;  above  the  medium 
height ;  with  a  well-formed  person,  well-balanced  head, 
and  handsome  countenance.  His  mouth  was  the  least 
pleasing  feature  of  his  face.  The  lips  were  full,  but  too 
firmly  drawn  back  against  his  teeth.  Eyes  dark,  large, 
and  slightly  prominent,  with  great  depth,  but  only  occa 
sional  softness,  of  expression.  His  was  a  face  with 
much  in  it  to  attract,  and  something  to  repel.  A 
deep,  rich  voice,  finely  modulated,  completed  his  per 
sonal  attractions. 

It  so  happened  that  Mr.  Lyon  had  arrived  from  E"ew 
York  that  very  day,  with  letters  to  Mr.  Markland.  His 
intention  was  to  remain  only  until  the  next  morning. 
The  meeting  with  Mr.  Markland  was  accidental;  and 
it  was  only  after  earnest  persuasion  that  the  young  man 
deferred  his  journey  southward,  and  consented  to  spend 
a  day  or  two  with  the  retired  merchant,  in  his  country 

home. 

4* 


42  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Mr.  Lyon  was  liberally  educated,  had  travelled  a 
good  deal,  and  been  a  close  observer  and  thinker.  He 
was,  moreover,  well  read  in  human  nature.  That  he 
charmed  the  little  circle  at  Woodbine  Lodge  on  the  first 
evening  of  his  visit  there,  is  scarcely  a  matter  of  wonder. 
Nor  was  he  less  charmed.  Perhaps  the  only  one  not 
altogether  pleased  was  Aunt  Grace.  By  habit  a  close 
reader  of  all  who  came  within  range  of  her  observa 
tion,  she  occupied  quite  as  much  time  in  scanning  the 
face  of  Mr.  Lyon,  and  noting  each  varying  expression 
of  eyes,  lips,  and  voice,  as  in  listening  to  his  entertain 
ing  description  of  things  heard  and  seen. 

"I  don't  just  like  him."  Thus  she  soliloquized  after 
she  had  retired  to  her  own  room.  "He's  deep — any 
one  can  see  that — deep  as  the  sea.  And  he  has  a  way 
of  turning  his  eyes  without  turning  his  head  that  don't 
please  me  exactly.  Edward  is  wonderfully  taken  with 
him;  but  he  never  looks  very  far  below  the  surface. 
And  Fanny — why  the  girl  seemed  perfectly  fascinated  !" 

And  Aunt  Grace  shook  her  head  ominously,  as  she 
added — 

"He's  handsome  enough;  but  beauty's  only  skin- 
deep,  and  he  may  be  as  black  as  Lucifer  inside." 

A  greater  part  of  the  next  day  Mr.  Markland  and 
Mr.  Lyon  spent  alone,  either  in  the  library  or  seated  in 
some  one  of  the  many  shady  arbours  and  cool  retreats 
scattered  invitingly  over  the  pleasant  estate.  The 
stranger  had  found  the  mind  of  his  host  hungering  for 
new  aliment,  and  as  his  own  mind  was  full  stored  with 
thought  and  purpose,  he  had  but  to  speak  to  awaken  in 
terest.  Among  other  things,  he  gave  Mr.  Markland  a 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  43 

minute  detail  of  certain  plans  for  acquiring  an  immense 
fortune,  in  the  prosecution  of  which,  in  company  with 
some  wealthy  capitalists,  he  was  now  engaged.  The  re 
sult  was  sure ;  for  every  step  had  been  taken  with  the 
utmost  caution,  and  every  calculation  thrice  verified. 

"And  what  a  dreaming  idler  I  am  here !"  said  Mark- 
land,  half  to  himself,  in  one  of  the  conversational  pauses, 
as  there  was  presented  to  his  mind  a  vivid  contrast  of 
his  fruitless  inactivity  with  the  vigorous  productive  in 
dustry  of  others.  "  I  half  question,  at  times,  whether, 
in  leaving  the  busy  world,  I  did  not  commit  a  serious 
error." 

"  Have  you  given  up  all  interest  in  business  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Lyon. 
"All." 

"Ah  !"  with  slight  evidence  of  surprise.  "How  do 
you  live  ?" 

"  The  life  of  an  oyster,  I  was  going  to  say,"  replied 
Markland,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  I  would  die  if  not  active.  True  enjoyment,  a  wise 
friend  has  often  said  to  me,  is  never  found  in  repose, 
but  in  activity.  To  me  a  palace  would  be  a  prison,  if  I 
could  find  nothing  to  do  ;  while  a  prison  would  be  a 
palace,  if  mind  and  hands  were  fully  employed." 

"I  lack  the  motive  for  renewed  effort,"  said  Mark- 
land.     "  Wealth  beyond  my  present  possession  I  do  not 
desire.     I  have  more  than  enough  safely  invested  to 
give  me  every  comfort  and  luxury  through  life." 
"But  your  children?"  remarked  the  guest. 
"Will  have  ample  provision." 
"  There  is  another  motive." 


44  THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 

"What?" 

"  Money  is  power." 

"True." 

"And  by  its  proper  use  a  man  may  elevate  himself 
into  almost  any  position.  It  is  the  lever  that  moves 
the  world." 

Markland  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"Have  you  no  ambition?"  inquired  the  other,  in  a 
familiar  way. 

"Ambition!"     The  question  awakened  surprise. 

"To  stand  out  prominently  in  the  world's  eye,  no 
matter  for  what,  so  the  distinction  be  honourable,"  said 
Mr.  Lyon.  "  Of  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
who  toil  up  the  steep  and  often  rugged  paths  to  wealth, 
and  attain  the  desired  eminence,  how  few  are  ever  heard 
of  beyond  the  small  community  in  which  they  live  ! 
Some  of  these,  to  perpetuate  a  name,  establish  at  death 
some  showy  charity,  and  thus  build  for  themselves  a 
monument  not  overshadowed  by  statelier  mausoleums 
amid  the  rivalries  of  a  fashionable  cemetery.  Pah  !  All 
this  ranges  far  below  my  aspiring.  I  wish  to  make  a 
name  while  living.  Wealth  in  itself  is  only  a  toy.  No 
true  man  can  find  pleasure  in  its  mere  glitter  for  a  day. 
It  is  only  the  miser  who  loves  gold  for  its  own  sake,  and 
sees  nothing  beautiful  or  desirable  except  the  yellow 
earth  he  hoards  in  his  coffers.  Have  you  found  happi 
ness  in  the  mere  possession  of  wealth?" 

"Not  in  its  mere  possession,"  was  answered. 

"  Nor  even  in  its  lavish  expenditure  ?" 

"  I  have  great  pleasure  in  using  it  for  the  attainment 
of  my  wishes,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  45 

"  The  narrower  the  bound  of  our  wishes,  the  quicker 
comes  their  consummation,  and  then  all  is  restlessness 
again,  until  we  enter  upon  a  new  pursuit." 

"  Truly  spoken." 

"  Is  it  not  wise,  then,  to  give  a  wide  sweep  to  our  as 
pirations  ?  to  lift  the  ideal  of  our  life  to  a  high  posi 
tion  ;  so  that,  in  its  attainment,  every  latent  power  may 
be  developed  ?  Depend  upon  it,  Mr.  Markland,  we  may 
become  what  we  will ;  and  I,  for  one,  mean  to  become 
something  more  than  a  mere  money-getter  and  money- 
saver.  But  first  the  money-getting,  as  a  means  to  an 
end.  To  that  every  energy  must  now  be  devoted." 

Mr.  Lyon's  purpose  was  to  interest  Mr.  Markland, 
and  he  was  entirely  successful.  He  drew  for  him  va 
rious  attractive  pictures,  and  in  the  contemplation  of 
each,  as  it  stood  vividly  before  him,  the  retired  merchant 
saw  much  to  win  his  ardent  admiration.  Very  gradually, 
and  very  adroitly,  seeming  all  the  while  as  if  he  had 
not  the  slightest  purpose  to  interest  Mr.  Markland  in 
that  particular  direction,  did  Mr.  Lyon  create  in  his 
mind  a  strong  confidence  in  the  enlarged  schemes  for 
obtaining  immense  wealth  in  which  he  was  now  en 
gaged.  And  the  tempter  was  equally  successful  in  his 
efforts  to  awaken  a  desire  in  Mr.  Markland  to  have  his 
name  stand  out  prominently,  as  one  who  had  shown  re 
markable  public  spirit  and  great  boldness  in  the  prose 
cution  of  a  difficult  enterprise. 

One,  two,  three  days  went  by,  and  still  Mr.  Lyon 
was  a  lingerer  at  Woodbine  Lodge  ;  and  during  most  of 
that  time  he  was  alone  and  in  earnest  conference  with 
Mr.  Markland.  The  evenings  were  always  pleasant 


46  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

seasons  in  the  family  circle.  Fanny's  voice  had  been 
well  cultivated,  and  she  sung  with  fine  taste ;  and  as 
Mr.  Lyon  was  also  a  lover  of  music,  and  played  and 
sung  exquisitely,  the  two  very  naturally  spent  a  portion 
of  their  time  at  the  piano.  If  it  crossed  the  father's 
mind  that  an  attachment  might  spring  up  between  them, 
it  did  not  disturb  his  feelings. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  Mr.  Lyon  found  it  necessary 
to  tear  himself  away  from  the  little  paradise  into  which 
he  had  been  so  unexpectedly  introduced.  Every  day 
that  he  lingered  there  diminished  the  ardour  of  his  am 
bition,  or  robbed  of  some  charm  the  bright  ideal  he  had 
worshipped.  And  so  he  broke  the  silken  bonds  that 
wove  themselves  around  him,  at  first  light  as  gossamer, 
but  now  strong  as  twisted  cords. 

Mr.  Markland  accompanied  him  to  the  city,  and  did 
not  return  home  until  late  in  the  evening.  He  was  then 
much  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  entered  but 
little  into  conversation.  Fanny  was  absent-minded,  a 
fact  that  did  not  escape  the  mother's  observation.  Aunt 
Grace  noted  the  change  which  the  stranger's  coming 
and  departure  had  occasioned,  and,  shaking  her  wise 
head,  spoke  thus  within  herself — 

"  He  may  be  very  handsome,  but  he  casts  a  shadow, 
for  all  that.  I  don't  see  what  Edward  was  thinking 
about.  He'd  better  let  Fanny  go  right  into  the  world, 
where  she  can  see  dozens  of  handsome  young  men,  and 
contrast  one  with  another,  than  hide  her  away  here, 
until  some  attractive  young  Lucifer  comes  along — a 
very  Son  of  the  Morning  !  How  can  the  girl  help  fall 
ing  in  love,  if  she  sees  but  one  man,  and  he  elegant, 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  47 

accomplished,  handsome,  and  full  of  winning  ways, 
even  though  his  hidden  heart  be  black  with  selfishness?" 

But  Aunt  Grace  always  looked  at  the  shadowy  side. 
Even  if  the  sun  shone  bright  above,  she  thought  of  the 
clouds  that  were  gathering  somewhere,  and  destined  ere 
long  to  darken  the  whole  horizon. 

On  the  day  following,  Mr.  Markland  went  again  to 
the  city,  and  was  gone  until  late  in  the  evening.  His 
mind  was  as  much  occupied  as  on  the  evening  previous, 
and  he  spent  the  hours  from  tea-time  until  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  library,  writing.  If  Mrs.  Markland  did  not  ap 
pear  to  notice  any  change  in  her  husband  since  Mr. 
Lyon  came  to  Woodbine  Lodge,  it  was  not  that  the 
change  had  escaped  her.  No — she  was  too  deeply  in 
terested  in  all  that  concerned  him  to  fail  in  noting  every 
new  aspect  of  thought  or  feeling.  He  had  said  nothing 
of  awakened  purpose,  quickened  into  activity  by  long 
conferences  with  his  guest,  but  she  saw  that  such  pur 
poses  were  forming.  Of  their  nature  she  was  in  entire 
ignorance.  That  they  would  still  further  estrange  him 
from  Woodbine  Lodge,  she  had  too  good  reason,  in  a 
knowledge  of  his  character,  to  fear.  With  him,  what 
ever  became  a  pursuit  absorbed  all  others;  and  he 
looked  to  the  end  with  a  vision  so  intent,  that  all  else 
wras  seen  in  obscurity.  And  so,  with  a  repressed  sigh, 
this  gentle,  true-hearted,  loving  woman,  whose  thought 
rarely  turned  in  upon  herself,  awaited  patiently  the  time 
when  her  husband  would  open  to  her  what  was  in  his 
thoughts.  And  the  time,  she  knew,  was  not  distant. 


48  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BEFORE  Mr.  Lyon's  visit  to  Woodbine  Lodge,  Mr. 
Markland  rarely  went  to  the  city.  Now,  scarcely  a  day 
passed  that  he  did  not  order  his  carriage  immediately 
after  breakfast ;  and  he  rarely  came  back  until  night 
fall.  "Some  matters  of  business,"  he  would  answer  to 
the  questions  of  his  family ;  but  he  gave  no  intimation 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  business,  and  evidently  did  not 
care  to  be  inquired  of  too  closely. 

"What's  come  over  Edward?  He  isn't  the  same 
man  that  he  was  a  month  ago,"  said  Miss  Grace,  as  she 
stood  in  the  portico,  beside  Mrs.  Markland,  one  morning, 
looking  after  the  carriage  which  was  bearing  her  brother 
off  to  the  city.  There  had  been  a  hurried  parting  with 
Mr.  Markland,  who  seemed  more  absorbed  than  usual  in 
his  own  thoughts. 

Mrs.  Markland  sighed  faintly,  but  made  no  answer. 

"  I  wonder  what  takes  him  off  to  town,  post-haste, 
every  day  ?" 

"  Business,  I  suppose,"  was  the  half-absent  remark. 

"  Business  !  What  kind  of  business,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"Edward  has  not  informed  me  as  to  that,"  quietly 
answered  Mrs.  Markland. 

"Indeed!"  a  little  querulously.  "Why  don't  you 
ask  him?" 

"  I  am  not  over-anxious  on  the  subject.  If  he  has  any 
thing  to  confide  to  me,  he  will  do  it  in  his  own  good 
time." 

"  Oh !  you're  too  patient."     The  tone  and  manner  of 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  49 

Miss  Grace  showed  that  she,  at  least,  was  not  over 
stocked  with  the  virtue. 

"Why  should  I  be  impatient?" 

"Why?  Goodness  me !  Do  you  suppose  that  if  I 
had  a  husband — and  it's  a  blessed  thing  for  me  that  I 
haven't — that  I'd  see  him  going  off,  day  after  day,  with 
lips  sealed  like  an  oyster,  and  remain  as  patient  as  a  pet 
lamb  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon  ?  Oh  dear !  no  !  Grace 
Markland's  made  of  warmer  stuff  than  that.  I  like 
people  who  talk  right  out.  I  always  do.  Then  you  know 
where  to  place  them.  But  Edward  always  had  a  hidden 
way  about  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  Grace ;  I  will  not  agree  to  that  for  a  mo 
ment,"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  Won't  you,  indeed !  I'm  his  sister,  and  ought  to 
know  something  about  him." 

"And  I'm  his  wife,"  was  the  gentle  response  to  this. 

"  I  know  you  are,  and  a  deal  too  good  for  him — the 
provoking  man  !"  said  Grace,  in  her  off-hand  way,  draw 
ing  her  arm  within  that  of  Mrs.  Markland,  to  whom  she 
was  strongly  attached.  "  And  that's  what  riles  me  up  so." 

"  Why,  you're  in  a  strange  humour,  Grace  !  Edward 
has  done  nothing  at  which  I  can  complain." 

"He  hasn't,  indeed ?" 

"No." 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  he  means  by  posting  off  to 
the  city  every  day  for  a  week  at  a  stretch,  and  never  so 
much  as  breathing  to  his  wife  the  purpose  of  his  visits  ?" 

"  Business.  He  said  that  business  required  his  atten 
tion." 

"  What  business  ?" 

D  5 


50  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  As  to  that,  lie  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  advise 
me.  Men  do  not  always  explain  business  matters  to 
their  wives.  One-half  would  not  understand  what  they 
were  talking  about,  and  the  other  half  would  take  little 
interest  in  the  subject." 

"A  compliment  to  wives,  certainly!"  said  Grace 
Markland,  with  a  rather  proud  toss  of  her  head.  "  One 
of  your  lords  of  creation  would  find  different  stuff  in  me. 
But  I'm  not  satisfied  with  Edward's  goings  on,  if  you 
are,  Agnes.  It's  my  opinion  that  your  Mr.  Lee  Lyon  is 
at  the  bottom  of  all  this." 

A  slight  shade  dimmed  the  face  of  Mrs.  Markland. 
She  did  not  reply ;  but  looked,  with  a  more  earnest  ex 
pression,  at  her  sister-in-law. 

"Yes — your  Mr.  Lee  Lyon."  Grace  was  warming 
again.  "  He's  one  of  your  men  that  cast  shadows  wher 
ever  they  go.  I  felt  it  the  moment  his  foot  crossed  our 
threshold — didn't  you?" 

Grace  gave  thought  and  words  to  what,  with  Mrs. 
Markland,  had  only  been  a  vague  impression.  She  had 
felt  the  shadow  of  his  presence  without  really  perceiving 
from  whence  the  shadow  came.  Pausing  only  a  moment 
for  an  answer  to  her  query,  Grace  went  on : — 

"  Mr.  Lyon  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this,  take  my  word 
for  it;  and  if  he  doesn't  get  Edward  into  trouble  before 
he's  done  with  him,  my  name's  not  Grace  Markland." 

"  Trouble  !  What  do  you  mean,  Grace  ?"  Another 
shade  of  anxiety  flitted  over  the  countenance  of  Mrs. 
Markland. 

"Don't  you  suppose  that  Edward's  going  to  town 
every  day  has  something  to  do  with  this  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  51 

"Mr.  Lyon  went  South  nearly  two  weeks  ago,"  was 
answered. 

"  That  doesn't  signify.  He's  a  schemer  and  an  ad 
venturer — I  could  see  it  in  every  lineament  of  his  face — 
and,  there's  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  my  mind,  has  got 
Edward  interested  in  some  of  his  doings.  Why,  isn't  it 
as  plain  as  daylight  ?  Were  not  he  and  Edward  all-absorbed 
about  something  while  he  was  here  ?  Didn't  he  remain 
a  week  when  he  had  to  be  urged,  at  first,  to  stay  a  single 
day  ?  And  hasn't  Edward  been  a  different  man  since  he 
left,  from  what  he  was  before  he  came  ?" 

"Your  imagination  is  too  active,  Grace,"  Mrs.  Mark- 
land  replied,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  don't  see  any  neces 
sary  connection  between  Mr.  Lyon  and  the  business  that 
requires  Edward's  attention  in  the  city.  The  truth  is, 
Edward  has  grown  weary  of  an  idle  life,  and  I  shall  not 
at  all  regret  his  attention  to  some  pursuit  that  will  occupy 
his  thoughts.  No  man,  with  his  mental  and  bodily  powers 
in  full  vigour,  should  be  inactive." 

"  That  will  altogether  depend  on  the  direction  his  mind 
takes,"  said  Grace. 

"  Of  course.  And  I  do  not  see  any  good  reason  you 
have  for  intimating  that  in  the  present  case  the  right 
direction  has  not  been  taken."  There  was  just  per 
ceptible  a  touch  of  indignation  in  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Markland,  which,  being  perceived  by  Grace,  brought  the 
sententious  remark, — 

"  Fore-warned,  fore-armed.  If  my  suspicion  is  base 
less,  no  one  is  injured." 

Just  then,  Fanny,  the  oldest  daughter,  returned  from 
a  short  walk,  and  passed  her  mother  and  aunt  on  the 


52  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

portico,  without  looking  up  or  speaking.  There  was  an 
air  of  absent-mindedness  about  her. 

"  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over  Fanny,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland.  "  She  isn't  at  all  like  herself."  And  as  she 
uttered  these  words,  not  meaning  them  for  other  ears 
than  her  own,  she  followed  her  daughter  into  the  house. 

"  Don't  know  what's  come  over  Fanny !"  said  Aunt 
Grace  to  herself,  as  she  moved  up  and  down  the  vine- 
wreathed  portico — "  well,  well, — some  people  are  blind. 
This  is  like  laying  a  block  in  a  man's  way,  and  wonder 
ing  that  he  should  fall  down.  Don't  know  what's  come 
over  Fanny  ?  Dear  !  dear  !" 

Enough  had  been  said  by  her  sister-in-law  to  give 
direction  to  the  vague  anxieties  awakened  in  the  mind 
of  Mrs.  Markland  by  the  recent  deportment  of  her  hus 
band.  He  was  not  only  absent  in  the  city  every  day, 
but  his  mind  was  so  fully  occupied  when  at  home,  that 
he  took  little  interest  in  the  family  circle.  Sometimes 
he  remained  alone  in  the  library  until  a  late  hour  at 
night ;  and  his  sleep,  when  he  did  retire,  was  not  sound ; 
a  fact  but  too  well  known  to  his  wakeful  partner. 

All  through  this  day  there  was  an  unusual  pressure  on 
the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Markland.  When  she  inquired  of 
herself  as  to  the  cause,  she  tried  to  be  satisfied  with 
assigning  it  wholly  to  the  remarks  of  her  sister-in-law, 
and  not  to  any  really  existing  source  of  anxiety.  But 
in  this  she  was  far  from  being  successful;  and  the  weight 
continued  to  grow  heavier  as  the  hours  moved  on.  Earlier 
than  she  had  expected  its  return,  the  carriage  was  an 
nounced,  and  Mrs.  Markland,  with  a  suddenly-lightened 
heart,  went  tripping  over  the  lawn  to  meet  her  husband 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  53 

at  the  outer  gate.  "  Where  is  Mr.  Markland  ?"  she  ex 
claimed,  growing  slightly  pale,  on  reaching  the  carriage, 
and  seeing  that  it  was  empty. 

"  Gone  to  New  York,"  answered  the  coachman,  at  the 
same  time  handing  a  letter. 

"  To  New  York  !  When  did  he  go  ?"  Mrs.  Mark- 
land's  thoughts  were  thrown  into  sudden  confusion. 

"  He  went  at  five  o'clock,  on  business.  Said  he  must 
be  there  to-morrow  morning.  But  he'll  tell  you  all  about 
it  in  the  letter,  ma'am." 

Recovering  herself,  Mrs.  Markland  stepped  from  the 
side  of  the  carriage,  and  as  it  passed  on,  she  broke  the 
seal  of  her  letter,  which  she  found  to  contain  one  for 
Fanny,  directed  in  a  hand  with  which  she  was  not  fa 
miliar. 

"A  letter  for  you,  dear,"  she  said ;  for  Fanny  was  now 
by  her  side. 

"Who  is  it  from?  Where  is  father?"  asked  Fanny 
in  the  same  breath. 

"Your  father  has  gone  to  New  York,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  with  forced  composure. 

Fanny  needed  no  reply  to  the  first  question;  her 
heart  had  already  given  the  answer.  With  a  flushed 
cheek  and  quickening  pulse,  she  bounded  away  from  her 
mother's  side,  and  returning  into  the  house,  sought  the 
retirement  of  her  own  chamber. 

"  Dear  Agnes," — so  ran  the  note  of  Mr.  Markland  to 
his  wife, — "  I  know  that  you  will  be  surprised  and  dis 
appointed  at  receiving  only  a  letter,  instead  of  your 
husband.  But  some  matters  in  New  York  require  my 
attention,  and  I  go  on  by  the  evening  train,  to  return 

5* 


54  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

day  after  to-morrow.  I  engaged  to  transact  some  im 
portant  business  for  Mr.  Lyon,  when  he  left  for  the 
South,  and  in  pursuance  of  this,  I  am  now  going  away. 
In  a  letter  received  from  Mr.  Lyon,  to-day,  was  one  for 
Fanny.  I  do  not  know  its  contents.  Use  your  own 
discretion  about  giving  it  to  her.  You  will  find  it  enclosed. 
My  mind  has  been  so  much  occupied  to-day,  that  I  could 
not  give  the  subject  the  serious  consideration  it  requires. 
I  leave  it  with  you,  having  more  faith  in  your  intuitions 
than  in  my  own  judgment.  He  did  not  hint,  even  re 
motely,  at  a  correspondence  with  Fanny,  when  he  left; 
nor  has  he  mentioned  the  fact  of  enclosing  a  letter  for 
her  in  the  one  received  from  him  to-day.  Thus,  deli 
cately,  has  he  left  the  matter  in  our  hands.  Perhaps 
you  had  better  retain  the  letter  until  I  return.  We  can 
then  digest  the  subject  more  thoroughly.  But,  in  order 
to  furnish  your  mind  some  basis  to  rest  upon,  I  will  say, 
that  during  the  time  Mr.  Lyon  was  here  I  observed  him 
very  closely ;  and  that  every  thing  about  him  gave  me 
the  impression  of  a  pure,  high-minded,  honourable  man. 
Such  is  the  testimony  borne  in  his  favour  by  letters  from 
men  of  standing  in  England,  by  whom  he  is  trusted  with 
large  interests.  I  do  not  think  an  evidence  of  prepos 
session  for  our  daughter,  on  his  part,  need  occasion 
anxiety,  but  rather  pleasure.  Of  course,  she  is  too  young 
to  leave  the  home-nest  for  two  or  three  years  yet.  But 
time  is  pressing,  and  my  mind  is  in  no  condition,  just 
now,  to  think  clearly  on  a  subject  involving  such  impor 
tant  results.  I  think,  however,  that  you  had  better 
keep  the  letter  until  my  return.  It  will  be  the  most 
prudent  course." 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  55 

Keep  the  letter !  Its  contents  were  already  in  the 
heart  of  Fanny ! 

"Where's  Edward?  What's  the  matter?"  queried 
Aunt  Grace,  coming  up  at  this  moment,  and  seeing  that 
all  colour  had  left  the  cheeks  of  Mrs.  Markland. 

Scarcely  reflecting  on  what  she  did,  the  latter  handed 
her  husband's  letter  in  silence  to  her  sister-in-law,  and 
tottered,  rather  than  walked,  to  a  garden  chair  near  at 
hand. 

"Well,  now,  here  is  pretty  business,  upon  my  word !" 
exclaimed  Aunt  Grace,  warmly.  "  Sending  a  letter  to 
our  Fanny !  Who  ever  heard  of  such  assurance  !  Oh  ! 
I  knew  that  some  trouble  would  come  of  his  visit  here. 
I  felt  it  the  moment  I  set  my  eyes  on  him.  Keep  the 
letter  from  Fanny  ?  Of  course  you  will ;  and  when  you 
have  a  talk  with  Edward  about  it,  just  let  me  be  there ; 
I  want  my  say." 

"It  is  too  late,"  murmured  the  unhappy  mother,  in  a 
low,  sad  voice. 

"  Too  late  !     How  ?     What  do  you  mean,  Agnes  ?" 

"Fanny  has  the  letter  already." 

"  What !"  There  was  a  sharp,  thrusting  rebuke  in  the 
voice  of  Aunt  Grace,  that  seemed  like  a  sword  in  the 
heart  of  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  She  stood  by  me  when  I  opened  her  father's  letter, 
enclosing  the  one  for  her.  I  did  not  dream  from  whence 
it  came,  and  handed  it  to  her  without  a  thought." 

"Agnes  !  Agnes  !  What  have  you  done?"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Grace,  in  a  troubled  voice. 

"Nothing  for  which  I  need  reproach  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland,  now  grown  calmer.  "  Had  the  discre- 


56  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

tion  been  left  with  me,  I  should  not  have  given  Fanny 
the  letter  until  Edward  returned.  But  it  passed  to  her 
hands  through  no  will  of  mine.  With  the  Great  Con 
troller  of  events  it  must  now  be  left." 

"  Oh  dear  !  Don't  talk  about  the  Controller  of  events 
in  a  case  of  this  kind.  Wise  people  control  such  things 
through  the  wisdom  given  them.  I  always  think  of 
Jupiter  and  the  wagoner,  when  I  hear  any  one  going  on 
this  way." 

Aunt  Grace  was  excited.  She  usually  was  when  she 
thought  earnestly.  But  her  warmth  of  word  and  man 
ner  rarely  disturbed  Mrs.  Markland,  who  knew  her 
thoroughly,  and  valued  her  for  her  good  qualities  and 
strong  attachment  to  the  family.  No  answer  was  made, 
and  Aunt  Grace  added,  in  a  slightly  changed  voice, — 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  are  so  much  to  blame,  Agnes, 
seeing  that  Fanny  saw  the  letter,  and  that  you  were 
ignorant  of  its  contents.  But  Edward  might  have  known 
that  something  like  this  would  happen.  Why  didn't  he 
put  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  and  keep  it  until  he  came 
home  ?  He  seems  to  have  lost  his  common  sense.  And 
then  he  must  go  off  into  that  rigmarole  about  Mr.  Lyon, 
and  try  to  make  him  out  a  saint,  as  if  to  encourage  you 
to  give  his  letter  to  Fanny.  I've  no  patience  with  him  ! 
Mr.  Lyon,  indeed  !  If  he  doesn't  have  a  heart-scald  of 
him  before  he's  done  with  him,  I'm  no  prophet.  Im 
portant  business  for  Mr.  Lyon  !  Why  didn't  Mr.  Lyon 
attend  to  his  own  business  when  he  was  in  New  York  ? 
Oh  !  I  can  see  through  it  all,  as  clear  as  daylight.  He's 
got  his  own  ends  to  gain  through  Edward,  who  is  blind 
and  weak  enough  to  be  led  by  him." 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  57 

"Hasty  in  judgment  as  ever,"  said  Mrs.  Markland, 
with  a  subdued,  resigned  manner,  as  she  arose  and  com 
menced  moving  toward  the  house,  her  sister-in-law  walk 
ing  by  her  side, — "and  quick  to  decide  upon  character. 
But  neither  men  nor  women  are  to  be  read  at  a  glance." 

"  So  much  the  more  reason  for  holding  strangers  at 
arms'  length,"  returned  Aunt  Grace. 

But  Mrs.  Markland  felt  in  no  mood  for  argument  on 
so  fruitless  a  subject.  On  entering  the  house,  she  passed 
to  her  own  private  apartment,  there  to  commune  with 
herself  alone. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ONLY  a  few  minutes  had  Mrs.  Markland  been  in  her 
room,  when  the  door  opened  quietly,  and  Fanny's  light 
foot-fall  was  in  her  ears.  She  did  not  look  up ;  but  her 
heart  beat  with  a  quicker  motion,  and  her  breath  was 
half-suspended. 

"Mother!" 

She  lifted  her  bowed  head,  and  met  the  soft,  clear 
eyes  of  her  daughter  looking  calmly  down  into  her  own. 

"Fanny,  dear!"  she  said,  in  half-surprise,  as  she 
placed  an  arm  around  her,  and  drew  her  closely  to  her 
side. 

An  open  letter  was  in  Fanny's  hand,  and  she  held  it 
toward  her  mother.  There  was  a  warmer  hue  upon  her 
face,  as  she  said, — 

"It  is  from  Mr.  Lyon." 


58  THE   GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

"  Shall  I  read  it  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Markland. 
"I  have  brought  it  for  you  to  read,"  was  the  daugh 
ter's  answer. 

The  letter  was  brief: — 

"  To  Miss  FANNY  MARKLAND  : 

"  As  I  am  now  writing  to  your  father,  I  must  fulfil  a 
half  promise,  made  during  my  sojourn  at  Woodbine 
Lodge,  to  write  to  you  also.  Pleasant  days  were  those 
to  me,  and  they  will  ever  make  a  green  spot  in  my  me 
mory.  What  a  little  paradise  enshrines  you !  Art, 
hand  in  hand  with  Nature,  have  made  a  world  of  beauty 
for  you  to  dwell  in.  Yet,  all  is  but  a  type  of  moral 
beauty — and  its  true  enjoyment  is  only  for  those  whose 
souls  are  attuned  to  deeper  harmonies. 

"  Since  leaving  Woodbine  Lodge,  my  thoughts  have 
acquired  a  double  current.  They  run  backward  as  well 
as  forward.  The  true  hospitality  of  your  manly-hearted 
father ;  the  kind  welcome  to  a  stranger,  given  so  cordi 
ally  by  your  gentle,  good  mother ;  and  your  own  grace 
ful  courtesy,  toward  one  in  whom  you  had  no  personal 
interest,  charmed — nay,  touched  me  with  a  sense  of  gra 
titude.  To  forget  all  this  would  be  to  change  my  nature. 
Nor  can  I  shut  out  the  image  of  Aunt  Grace,  so  reserved 
but  lady-like  in  her  deportment ;  yet  close  in  observation 
and  quick  to  read  character.  I  fear  I  did  not  make  a 
good  impression  on  her — but  she  may  know  me  better 
one  of  these  days.  Make  to  her  my  very  sincere  re 
gards. 

"And  now,  what  more  shall  I  say  ?  A  first  letter  to 
a  young  lady  is  usually  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches, 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  59 

made  up  of  sentences  that  might  come  in  almost  any 
other  connection ;  and  mine  is  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
I  do  not  ask  an  answer ;  yet  I  will  say,  that  I  know  no 
thing  that  would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  such  a 
favour  from  your  hand. 

"Remember  me  in  all  kindness  and  esteem  to  your 
excellent  parents. 

"  Sincerely  yours,  LEE  LYON." 

The  deep  breath  taken  by  Mrs.  Markland  was  one  of 
relief.  And  yet,  there  was  something  in  the  letter  that 
left  her  mind  in  uncertainty  as  to  the  real  intentions  of 
Mr.  Lyon.  Regret  that  he  should  have  written  at  all 
mingled  with  certain  pleasing  emotions  awakened  by  the 
graceful  compliments  of  their  late  guest. 

"  It's  a  beautiful  letter,  isn't  it,  mother  ?" 

"Yes,  love,"  was  answered  almost  without  reflection. 

Fanny  re-folded  the  letter,  with  the  care  of  one  who 
was  handling  something  precious. 

"  Shall  I  answer  it?"  she  inquired. 

"  Not  now.  We  must  think  about  that.  You  are  too 
young  to  enter  into  correspondence  with  a  gentleman — 
especially  with  one  about  whom  we  know  so  little.  Before 
his  brief  visit  to  Woodbine  Lodge,  we  had  never  so  much 
as  heard  of  Mr.  Lyon." 

A  slight  shade  of  disappointment  crossed  the  bright 
young  face  of  Fanny  Markland — not  unobserved  by  her 
mother. 

"It  would  seem  rude,  were  I  to  take  no  notice  of  the 
letter  whatever,"  said  she,  after  reflecting  a  moment. 


60  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Your  father  can  acknowledge  the  receipt  for  you, 
when  he  writes  to  Mr.  Lyon." 

"But  would  that  do  ?"  asked  Fanny,  in  evident  doubt. 

"  0  yes,  and  is,  in  my  view,  the  only  right  course. 
We  know  but  little,  if  any  thing,  about  Mr.  Lyon.  If 
he  should  not  be  a  true  man,  there  is  no  telling  how 
much  you  might  suifer  in  the  estimation  of  right-minded 
people,  by  his  representation  that  you  were  in  corre 
spondence  with  him.  A  young  girl  can  never  be  too 
guarded,  on  this  point.  If  Mr.  Lyon  is  a  man  worthy 
of  your  respect,  he  will  be  disappointed  in  you,  if  he 
receive  an  answer  to  his  letter,  under  your  own  hand." 

"  Why,  mother  ?  Does  he  not  say  that  he  knows  of 
nothing  that  would  give  him  more  pleasure  than  to  re 
ceive  an  answer  from  me?"  Fanny  spoke  with  anima 
tion. 

"  True,  my  child,  and  that  part  of  his  letter  I  like 
least  of  all." 

"Why  so?"  inquired  the  daughter. 

"  Have  you  not  gathered  the  answer  to  your  own  ques 
tion  from  what  I  have  already  said  ?  A  true  man,  who 
had  a  genuine  respect  for  a  young  lady,  would  not  desire, 
on  so  slight  an  acquaintance,  to  draw  her  into  a  corre 
spondence  ;  therefore  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lyon  half  invites 
you  to  a  correspondence,  causes  doubts  to  arise  in  my 
mind.  His  sending  you  a  letter  at  all,  when  he  is  yet 
to  us  almost  an  entire  stranger,  I  cannot  but  regard  as  a 
breach  of  the  hospitalities  extended  to  him." 

"Is  not  that  a  harsh  judgment?"  said  Fanny,  a 
warmer  hue  mantling  her  face. 

"  Reflect  calmly,  my  child,  and  you  will  not  think  so." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  61 

"  Then  I  ought  not  to  answer  this  letter  ?"  said  Fanny, 
after  musing  for  some  time. 

"  Let  your  father,  in  one  of  his  letters,  acknowledge 
the  receipt  for  you.  If  Mr.  Lyon  be  a  true  man,  he  will 
respect  you  the  more." 

"Not  entirely  satisfied,  though  she  gave  no  intimation 
of  this,  Fanny  returned  to  the  seclusion  of  her  own  room, 
to  muse  on  so  unexpected  a  circumstance ;  and  as  she 
mused,  the  beating  of  her  heart  grew  quicker.  Again 
she  read  the  letter  from  Mr.  Lyon,  and  again  and  again 
conned  it  over,  until  every  sentence  was  imprinted  on 
her  memory.  She  did  not  reject  the  view  taken  by  her 
mother ;  nay,  she  even  tried  to  make  it  her  own ;  but, 
for  all  this,  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  touching  Mr.  Lyon 
could  find  a  place  in  her  thoughts.  Before  her  mental 
vision  he  stood,  the  very  type  of  noble  manhood. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WHAT  an  error  had  been  committed  !  How  painfully 
was  this  realized  by  Mrs.  Markland.  How  often  had  she 
looked  forward,  with  a  vague  feeling  of  anxiety,  to  the 
time,  yet  far  distant — she  had  believed — when  the  heart 
strings  of  her  daughter  would  tremble  in  musical  response 
to  the  low-breathed  voice  of  love — and  now  that  time  had 
come.  Alas !  that  it  had  come  so  soon — ere  thought 
and  perception  had  gained  matured  strength  and  wise 
discrimination.  The  voice  of  the  charmer  was  in  her 

ears,  and  she  was  leaning  to  hearken. 

6 


62  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Fanny  did  not  join  the  family  at  the  tea-table  on  that 
evening;  and  on  the  next  morning,  when  she  met  her 
mother,  her  face  was  paler  than  usual,  and  her  eyes 
drooped  under  the  earnest  gaze  that  sought  to  read  her 
very  thoughts.  It  was  plain,  from  her  appearance,  that 
her  sleep  had  been  neither  sound  nor  refreshing. 

Mrs.  Markland  deemed  it  wisest  to  make  no  allusion 
to  what  had  occurred  on  the  previous  evening.  Her 
views  in  regard  to  answering  Mr.  Lyon's  letter  had  been 
clearly  expressed,  and  she  had  no  fear  that  her  daughter 
would  act  in  opposition  to  them.  Most  anxiously  did 
she  await  her  husband's  return.  Thus  far  in  life  they 
had,  in  all  important  events,  "  seen  eye  to  eye,"  and  she 
had  ever  reposed  full  confidence  in  his  judgment.  If 
that  confidence  wavered  in  any  degree  now,  it  had  been 
disturbed  through  his  seeming  entire  trust  in  Mr.  Lyon. 

Aunt  Grace  had  her  share  of  curiosity,  and  she  was 
dying,  as  they  say,  to  know  what  was  in  Fanny's  letter. 
The  non-appearance  of  her  niece  at  the  tea-table  had 
disappointed  her  considerably ;  and  it  was  as  much  as 
she  could  do  to  keep  from  going  to  her  room  during  the 
evening.  Sundry  times  she  tried  to  discover  whether 
Mrs.  Markland  had  seen  the  letter  or  not,  but  the  efforts 
were  unsuccessful ;  the  mother  choosing  for  the  present 
not  to  enter  into  further  conversation  with  her  on  the 
subject. 

All  eye  and  all  ear  was  Aunt  Grace  on  the  next  morn 
ing,  when  Fanny  made  her  appearance ;  but  only  through 
the  eye  was  any  information  gathered,  and  that  of  a  most 
unsatisfactory  character.  The  little  said  by  Fanny  or 
her  mother,  was  as  remote  as  possible  from  the  subject 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  63 

that  occupied  most  nearly  their  thoughts.  Aunt  Grace 
tried  in  various  ways  to  lead  them  in  the  direction  she 
would  have  them  go ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain  that  she 
asked  questions  touching  the  return  of  her  brother,  and 
wondered  what  could  have  taken  him  off  to  New  York  in 
such  a  hurry ;  no  one  made  any  satisfactory  reply.  At 
last,  feeling  a  little  chafed,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  little 
malicious,  she  said — 

"  That  Mr.  Lyon's  at  the  bottom  of  this  business." 

The  sentence  told,  as  she  had  expected  and  intended. 
Fanny  glanced  quickly  toward  her,  and  a  crimson  spot 
burned  on  her  cheek.  But  no  word  passed  her  lips.  "  So 
much  gained,"  thought  Aunt  Grace;  and  then  she  said 
aloud — 

"I've  no  faith  in  the  man  myself." 

This,  she  believed,  would  throw  Fanny  off  of  her  guard; 
but  she  was  mistaken.  The  colour  deepened  on  the 
young  girl's  cheeks,  but  she  made  no  response. 

"  If  he  doesn't  get  Edward  into  trouble  before  he's 
done  with  him,  I'm  no  prophet,"  added  Aunt  Grace,  with 
a  dash  of  vinegar  in  her  tones. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Markland,  who 
felt  constrained  to  speak. 

"  I've  no  opinion  of  the  man,  and  never  had  from  the 
beginning,  as  you  are  very  well  aware,"  answered  the 
sister-in-law. 

"  Our  estimate  of  character  should  have  a  sounder 
basis  than  mere  opinion,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately — 
prejudice,"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  I  don't  know  what  eyes  were  given  us  for,  if  we  are 
not  to  see  with  them,"  returned  Aunt  Grace,  dogmati- 


64  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

cally.  "  But  no  wonder  so  many  stumble  and  fall,  when 
so  few  use  their  eyes.  There  isn't  that  man  living  who 
does  not  bear,  stamped  upon  his  face,  the  symbols  of  his 
character.  And  plainly  enough  are  these  to  be  seen  in 
the  countenance  of  Mr.  Lyon." 

"And  how  do  you  read  them,  Aunt  Grace ?"  inquired 
Fanny,  with  a  manner  so  passionless,  that  even  the  sharp- 
sighted  aunt  was  deceived  in  regard  to  the  amount  of 
feeling  that  lay  hidden  in  her  heart. 

"  How  do  I  read  them  ?  I'll  tell  you.  I  read  them 
as  the  index  to  a  whole  volume  of  scheming  selfishness. 
The  man  is  unsound  at  the  core."  Aunt  Grace  was 
tempted  by  the  unruffled  exterior  of  her  niece  to  speak 
thus  strongly.  Her  words  went  deeper  than  she  had 
expected.  Fanny's  face  crimsoned  instantly  to  the  very 
temples,  and  an  indignant  light  flashed  in  her  soft  blue 
eyes. 

"  Objects  often  take  their  colour  from  the  medium 
through  which  we  see  them,"  she  said  quickly,  and  in  a 
voice  considerably  disturbed,  looking,  as  she  spoke, 
steadily  and  meaningly  at  her  aunt. 

"  And  so  you  think  the  hue  is  in  the  medium,  and 
not  in  the  object?"  said  Aunt  Grace,  her  tone  a  little 
modified. 

"In  the  present  instance,  I  certainly  do,"  answered 
Fanny,  with  some  ardour. 

"  Ah,  child  !  child !"  -returned  her  aunt,  "this  may  be 
quite  as  true  in  your  case  as  in  mine.  Neither  of  us 
may  see  the  object  in  its  true  colour.  You  will,  at  least, 
admit  this  to  be  possible." 

"  Oh,  yes.'' 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  65 

"And  suppose  you  see  it  in  a  false  colour?" 

"Well?"     Fanny  seemed  a  little  bewildered. 

"  Well  ?  And  what  then  ?"  Aunt  Grace  gazed  steadily 
upon  the  countenance  of  Fanny,  until  her  eyes  drooped 
to  the  floor.  "  To  whom  is  it  of  most  consequence  to 
see  aright?" 

Sharp-seeing,  but  not  wise  Aunt  Grace !  In  the  blind 
ness  of  thy  anxiety  for  Fanny,  thou  art  increasing  her 
peril.  What  need  for  thee  to  assume  for  the  maiden,  far 
too  young  yet  to  have  the  deeper  chords  of  womanhood 
awakened  in  her  heart  to  love's  music,  that  the  evil 
or  good  in  the  stranger's  character  might  be  any  thing 
to  her  ? 

"You  talk  very  strangely,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land,  with  just  enough  of  rebuke  in  her  voice  to  make 
her  sister-in-law  conscious  that  she  was  going  too  far. 
"Perhaps  we  had  better  change  the  subject,"  she  added, 
after  the  pause  of  a  few  moments. 

"As  you  like,"  coldly  returned  Aunt  Grace,  who  soon 
after  left  the  room,  feeling  by  no  means  well  satisfied 
with  herself  or  anybody  else.  Not  a  word  had  been  said 
to  her  touching  the  contents  of  Fanny's  letter,  and  in 
that  fact  was  indicated  a  want  of  confidence  that  con 
siderably  annoyed  her.  She  had  not,  certainly,  gone 
just  the  right  way  about  inviting  confidence ;  but  this 
defect  in  her  own  conduct  was  not  seen  very  clearly. 

A  constrained  reserve  marked  the  intercourse  of 
mother,  daughter,  and  aunt  during  the  day ;  and  when 
night  came,  and  the  evening  circle  was  formed  as  usual, 
how  dimly  burned  the  hearth-fire,  and  how  sombre  were 
the  shadows  cast  by  its  flickering  blaze !  Early  they 


66  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

separated,  each  with  a  strange  pressure  on  the  feelings, 
and  a  deep  disquietude  of  heart. 

Most  of  the  succeeding  day  Fanny  kept  apart  from 
the  family  ;  spending  a  greater  portion  of  the  time  alone 
in  her  room.  Once  or  twice  it  crossed  the  mother's 
thought,  that  Fanny  might  be  tempted  to  answer  the 
letter  of  Mr.  Lyon,  notwithstanding  her  promise  not  to 
do  so  for  the  present.  But  she  repelled  the  thought  in 
stantly,  as  unjust  to  her  beautiful,  loving,  obedient  child. 
Still,  Fanny's  seclusion  of  herself  weighed  on  her  mind, 
and  led  her  several  times  to  go  into  her  room.  Nothing, 
either  in  her  manner  or  employment,  gave  the  least  con 
firmation  to  the  vague  fear  which  had  haunted  her. 

The  sun  was  nearly  two  hours  above  the  horizon,  when 
Fanny  left  the  house,  and  bent  her  steps  towards  a  plea 
sant  grove  of  trees  that  stood  some  distance  away.  In  the 
midst  of  the  grove,  which  was  not  far  from  the  entrance- 
gate  to  her  father's  beautiful  grounds,  was  a  summer- 
house,  in  Oriental  style,  close  beside  an  ornamental  foun 
tain.  This  was  the  favourite  resort  of  the  maiden,  and 
thither  she  now  retired,  feeling  certain  of  complete  seclu 
sion,  to  lose  herself  in  the  bewildering  mazes  of  love's 
young  dream.  Before  the  eyes  of  her  mind,  one  form 
stood  visible,  and  that  a  form  of  manly  grace  and 
beauty, — the  very  embodiment  of  all  human  excellence. 
The  disparaging  words  of  her  aunt  had,  like  friction  up 
on  a  polished  surface,  only  made  brighter  to  her  vision 
the  form  which  the  other  had  sought  to  blacken.  What 
a  new  existence  seemed  opening  before  her,  with  new  and 
higher  capacities  for  enjoyment !  The  half-closed  bud 
had  suddenly  unfolded  itself  in  the  summer  air,  and 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  67 

every  blushing  petal  thrilled  with  a  more  exquisite  sense 
of  life. 

Every  aspect  of  nature — and  all  her  aspects  were 
beautiful  there — had  a  new  charm  for  the  eyes  of  Fanny 
Markland.  The  silvery  waters  cast  upward  by  the  foun 
tain  fell  back  in  rainbow  showers,  ruffling  the  tiny  lake 
beneath,  and  filling  the  air  with  a  low,  dreamy  murmur. 
Never  had  that  lovely  creation  of  art,  blending  with  na 
ture,  looked  so  like  an  ideal  thing  as  now — a  very  growth 
of  fairy-land.  The  play  of  the  waters  in  the  air  was 
as  the  glad  motions  of  a  living  form. 

Around  this  fountain  was  a  rosary  of  white  and  red 
roses,  encircled  again  by  arbor- vitae;  and  there  were 
statues  of  choice  workmanship,  the  ideals  of  modern  art, 
lifting  their  pure  white  forms  here  and  there  in  chas 
tened  loveliness.  All  this  was  shut  in  from  observation 
by  a  stately  grove  of  elms.  And  here  it  was  that  the 
maiden  had  come  to  hide  herself  from  observation,  and 
dream  her  waking  dream  of  love.  What  a  world  of  en 
chantment  was  dimly  opening  before  her,  as  her  eye  ran 
down  the  Eden-vistas  of  the  future  !  Along  those  aisles 
of  life  she  saw  herself  moving,  beside  a  stately  one,  who 
leaned  toward  her,  while  she  clung  to  him  as  a  vine  to 
its  firm  support.  Even  while  in  the  mazes  of  this  deli 
cious  dream,  a  heavy  footfall  startled  her,  and  she 
sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  suddenly-stilled  pulsation.  In 
the  next  instant  a  manly  form  filled  the  door  of  the  sum 
mer-house,  and  a  manly  voice  exclaimed : 

"  Miss  Markland  !  Fanny  !  do  I  find  you  here  ?" 

The  colour  left  the  maiden's  cheeks  for  an  instant. 
Then  they  flushed  to  deep  crimson.  But  her  lips  were 


68  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

sealed.      Surprise  took  away,  for  a  time,  the  power  of 
speech. 

"I  turned  aside,"  said  the  intruder,  "as  I  came  up 
the  avenue,  to  have  a  look  at  this  charming  spot,  so  well 
remembered;  but  dreamed  not  of  finding  you  here." 

He  had  already  approached  Fanny,  and  was  holding 
one  of  her  hands  tightly  in  his,  while  he  gazed  upon  her 
face  with  a  look  of  glowing  admiration. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lyon  !  How  you  have  startled  me  !"  said 
Fanny,  as  soon  as  she  could  command  her  voice. 

"  And  how  you  tremble  !  There,  sit  down  again,  Miss 
Markland,  and  calm  yourself.  Had  I  known  you  were 
here,  I  should  not  have  approached  so  abruptly.  But 
how  have  you  been  since  my  brief  absence  ?  And  how 
is  your  good  father  and  mother  ?" 

"  Father  is  in  New  York,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  In  New  York  !  I  feared  as  much."  And  a  slight 
shade  crossed  the  face  of  Mr.  Lyon,  who  spoke  as  if  off 
of  his  guard.  "  When  did  he  go  ?" 

"Yesterday." 

"  Ah  !     Did  he  receive  a  letter  from  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sir."  Fanny's  eyes  drooped  under  the  earnest 
gaze  that  was  fixed  upon  her. 

"  I  hoped  to  have  reached  here  as  soon  as  my  letter. 
This  is  a  little  unfortunate."  The  aspect  of  Mr.  Lyon 
became  grave. 

"  When  will  your  father  return?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

Again  Mr.  Lyon  looked  serious  and  thoughtful.  For 
some  moments  he  remained  abstracted ;  and  Fanny  ex- 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  69 

perienced  a  slight  feeling  of  timidity,  as  she  looked  upon 
his  shadowed  face.  Arousing  himself,  he  said : 

"This  being  the  case,  I  shall  at  once  return  South." 

"Not  until  to-morrow,"  said  Fanny. 

"  This  very  night,"  answered  Mr.  Lyon. 

"Then  let  us  go  to  the  Lodge  at  once,"  and  Fanny 
made  a  motion  to  rise.  "My  mother  will  be  gratified  to 
see  you,  if  it  is  only  for  a  few  moments." 

But  Mr.  Lyon  placed  a  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  said : 

"  Stay,  Miss  Markland — that  cannot  now  be.  I  must 
return  South  without  meeting  any  other  member  of  your 
family.  Did  you  receive  my  letter  ?"  he  added,  abruptly, 
and  with  a  change  of  tone  and  manner. 

Fanny  answered  affirmatively ;  and  his  quick  eye  read 
her  heart  in  voice  and  countenance. 

"  When  I  wrote,  I  had  no  thought  of  meeting  you 
again  so  soon.  But  a  few  hours  after  despatching  the 
letter  to  your  father,  enclosing  yours — a  letter  on  busi 
ness  of  importance,  to  me,  at  least — I  received  informa 
tion  that  led  me  to  wish  an  entire  change  in  the  pro 
gramme  of  operations  about  to  be  adopted,  through  your 
father's  agency.  Fearing  that  a  second  letter  might  be 
delayed  in  the  mails,  I  deemed  it  wisest  to  come  on  with 
the  greatest  speed  myself.  But  I  find  that  I  am  a  day  too 
late.  Your  father  has  acted  promptly ;  and  what  he  has 
done  must  not  be  undone.  Nay,  I  do  not  wish  him  even 
to  know  that  any  change  has  been  contemplated.  Now, 
Miss  Markland,"  and  his  voice  softened  as  he  bent  to 
ward  the  girlish  form  at  his  side,  "  may  one  so  recently 
a  stranger  claim  your  confidence  ?" 


70  THE   GOOD   TIME  COMING. 

"  From  my  father  and  my  mother  I  have  no  conceal 
ments,"  said  Fanny. 

"And  heaven  forbid  that  I  should  seek  to  mar  that 
truly  wise  confidence,"  quickly  answered  Mr.  Lyon. 
"  All  I  ask  is,  that,  for  the  present,  you  mention  to  no 
one  the  fact  that  I  have  been  here.  Our  meeting  in  this 
place  is  purely  accidental — providential,  I  will  rather  say. 
My  purpose  in  coming  was,  as  already  explained,  to  meet 
your  father.  He  is  away,  and  on  business  that  at  once 
sets  aside  all  necessity  for  seeing  him.  It  will  now  be 
much  better  that  he  should  not  even  know  of  my  return 
from  the  South — better  for  me,  I  mean ; 'for  the  interests 
that  might  suffer  are  mine  alone.  But  let  me  explain  a 
little,  that  you  may  act  understandingly.  When  I  went 
South,  your  father  very  kindly  consented  to  transact 
certain  business  left  unfinished  by  me  in  New  York. 
Letters  received  on  my  arrival  at  Savannah,  advised  me 
of  the  state  of  the  business,  and  I  wrote  to  your  father,  in 
what  way  to  arrange  it  for  me ;  by  the  next  mail  other 
letters  came,  showing  me  a  different  aspect  of  affairs,  and 
rendering  a  change  of  plan  very  desirable.  It  was  to 
explain  this  fully  to  your  father,  that  I  came  on.  But, 
as  it  is  too  late,  I  do  not  wish  him  even  to  know,  for  the 
present,  that  a  change  was  contemplated.  I  fear  it  might 
lessen,  for  a  time,  his  confidence  in  my  judgment — 
something  I  do  not  fear  when  he  knows  me  better.  Your 
silence,  for  the  present,  my  dear  Miss  Markland,  will 
nothing  affect  your  father,  who  has  little  or  no  personal 
interest  in  the  matter,  but  may  serve  me  materially. 
Say,  then,  that,  until  you  hear  from  me  again,  on  .the 
subject,  you  will  keep  your  own  counsel." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  71 

"  You  say  that  my  father  has  no  interest  in  the  busi 
ness  to  which  you  refer  ?"  remarked  Fanny.  Her  mind 
was  bewildered. 

"None  whatever.  He  is  only,  out  of  a  generous  good 
will,  trying  to  serve  the  son  of  an  old  business  friend," 
replied  Mr.  Lyon, confidently.  "Say,  then,  Fanny," — 
his  voice  was  insinuating,  and  there  was  something  of  the 
serpent's  fascination  in  his  eyes — "  that  you  will,  for  my 
sake,  remain,  for  the  present,  silent  on  the  subject  of 
this  return  from  the  South." 

As  he  spoke,  he  raised  one  of  her  hands  to  his  lips, 
and  kissed  it.  Still  more  bewildered — nay,  charmed — 
Fanny  did  not  make  even  a  faint  struggle  to  withdraw 
her  hand.  In  the  next  moment,  his  hot  lips  had  touched 
her  pure  forehead — and  in  the  next  moment,  "  Farewell !" 
rung  hurriedly  in  her  ears.  As  the  retiring  form  of  the 
young  adventurer  stood  in  the  door  of  the  summer-house, 
there  came  to  her,  with  a  distinct  utterance,  these  con 
fidently  spoken  words — "I  trust  you  without  fear." — 
And  "  God  bless  you  !"  flung  toward  her  with  a  heart- 
impulse,  found  a  deeper  place  in  her  soul,  from  whence, 
long  afterwards,  came  back  their  thrilling  echoes.  By 
the  time  the  maiden  had  gathered  up  her  scattered 
thoughts,  she  was  alone. 


72  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  maiden's  thoughts  were  yet  bewildered,  and  her 
heart  beating  tumultuously,  when  her  quick  ears  caught 
the  sound  of  other  footsteps  than  those  to  whose  retreat 
ing  echoes  she  had  been  so  intently  listening.  Hastily 
retreating  into  the  summer-house,  she  crouched  low  upon 
one  of  the  seats,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  escape  observa 
tion.  But  nearer  and  nearer  came  the  slow,  heavy  foot 
fall  of  a  man,  and  ere  she  had  time  to  repress,  by  a 
strong  effort,  the  agitation  that  made  itself  visible  in 
every  feature,  Mr.  Allison  was  in  her  presence.  It  was 
impossible  for  her  to  restrain  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
or  to  drive  back  the  crimson  from  her  flushing  face. 

"Pardon  the  intrusion,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  in 
his  usual  mild  tone.  "  If  I  had  known  that  you  were 
here,  I  would  not  have  disturbed  your  pleasant  reveries." 

Some  moments  elapsed,  ere  Fanny  could  venture  a 
reply.  She  feared  to  trust  her  voice,  lest  more  should 
be  betrayed  than  she  wished  any  one  to  know.  See 
ing  how  much  his  presence  disturbed  her,  Mr.  Allison 
stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  saying,  as  he  did  so, 

"  I  was  only  passing,  my  child ;  and  will  keep  on  my 
way.  I  regret  having  startled  you  by  my  sudden  ap 
pearance." 

He  was  about  retiring,  when  Fanny,  who  felt  that  her 
manner  must  strike  Mr.  Allison  as  very  singular,  made 
a  more  earnest  effort  to  regain  her  self-possession,  and 
said,  with  a  forced  smile : 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  73 

"  Don't  speak  of  intrusion,  Mr.  Allison.  Your  sudden 
coming  did  startle  me.  But  that  is  past." 

Mr.  Allison,  who  had  partly  turned  away,  now  ad 
vanced  toward  Fanny,  and,  taking  her  hand,  looked 
down  into  her  face,  from  which  the  crimson  flush  had 
not  yet  retired,  with  an  expression  of  tender  regard. 

"  Your  father  is  still  absent,  I  believe  ?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  He  will  be  home  soon." 

"We  hope  so.  His  visit  to  New  York  was  unex 
pected." 

"And  you  therefore  feel  his  absence  the  more." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Fanny,  now  regaining  her  usual 
tone  of  voice  and  easy  address  ;  "  and  it  seems  impos 
sible  for  us  to  be  reconciled  to  the  fact." 

"Few  men  are  at  home  more  than  your  father,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Allison.  "  His  world,  it  might  be  said,  is 
included  in  the  circle  of  his  beloved  ones." 

"  And  I  hope  it  will  always  be  so." 

Mr.  Allison  looked  more  earnestly  into  the  young 
maiden's  face.  He  did  not  clearly  understand  the  mean 
ing  of  this  sentence,  for,  in  the  low  tones  that  gave  it 
utterance,  there  seemed  to  his  ear  a  prophecy  of  change. 
Then  he  remembered  his  recent  conversation  with  her 
father,  and  light  broke  in  upon  his  mind.  The  absence 
of  Mr.  Markland  had,  in  all  probability,  following  the 
restless,  dissatisfied  state,  which  all  had  observed,  already 
awakened  the  concern  of  his  family,  lest  it  should  prove 
only  the  beginning  of  longer  periods  of  absence. 

"Business  called  your  father  to  New  York,"  said  Mr. 

Allison. 

7 


74  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Yes  ;  so  lie  wrote  home  to  mother.  He  went  to  the 
city  in  the  morning,  and  we  expected  him  back  as  usual 
in  the  evening,  but  he  sent  a  note  by  the  coachman,  say 
ing  that  letters  just  received  made  it  necessary  for  him  to 
go  on  to  New  York  immediately." 

"He  is  about  entering  into  business  again,  I  pre 
sume." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !"  replied  Fanny. 

Mr.  Allison  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  and 
then  said — 

"  I  thought  your  visitor,  Mr.  Lyon,  went  South  several 
days  ago." 

"  So  he  did,"  answered  Fanny,  in  a  quickened  tone  of 
voice,  and  with  a  manner  slightly  disturbed. 

"Then  I  was  in  error,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  speaking 
partly  to  himself.  "  I  thought  I  passed  him  in  the  road, 
half  an  hour  ago.  The  resemblance  was  at  least  a  very 
close  one.  You  are  certain  he  went  South  ?" 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir,"  replied  Fanny,  quickly. 

Mr.  Allison  looked  intently  upon  her,  until  her  eyes 
wavered  and  fell  to  the  ground.  He  continued  to  ob 
serve  her  for  some  moments,  and  only  withdrew  his  gaze 
when  he  saw  that  she  was  about  to  look  up.  A  faint 
sigh  parted  the  old  man's  lips.  Ah  !  if  a  portion  of  his 
wisdom,  experience,  and  knowledge  of  character,  could 
only  be  imparted  to  that  pure  young  spirit,  just  about 
venturing  forth  into  a  world  where  mere  appearances  of 
truth  deceive  and  fascinate  ! 

"Does  Mr.  Lyon  design  returning  soon  from  the 
South?" 

"  I  heard  him  say  to  father  that  he  did  not  think  he 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  75 

•would  be  in  this  part  of  the  world  again  for  six  or  eight 
months." 

And  again  the  eyes  of  Fanny  shunned  the  earnest 
gaze  of  Mr.  Allison. 

"  How  far  South  does  he  go  ?" 

"  I  am  not  able  to  answer  you  clearly ;  but  I  think  I 
heard  father  say  that  he  would  visit  Central  America." 

"Ah  !     He  is  something  of  a  traveller,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  has  travelled  a  great  deal." 

"  He  is  an  Englishman  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  His  father  is  an  old  business  friend  of  my 
father's." 

«  So  I  understood." 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  Mr.  Allison  seemed  to  be 
thinking  intently. 

"It  is  a  little  singular,  certainly,"  said  the,  as  if 
speaking  only  to  himself. 

"  What  is  singular  ?"  asked  Fanny,  looking  curiously 
at  her  companion. 

"  Why,  that  I  should  have  been  so  mistaken.  I  doubt 
ed  not,  for  a  moment,  that  the  person  I  saw  was  Mr. 
Lyon." 

Fanny  did  not  look  up.  If  she  had  done  so,  the  gaze 
fixed  upon  her  would  have  sent  a  deeper  crimson  to  her 
cheek  than  flushed  it  a  few  moments  before. 

"Have  you  any  skill  in  reading  character,  Fanny?" 
asked  Mr.  Allison,  in  a  changed  and  rather  animated 
voice,  and  with  a  manner  that  took  away  the  constraint 
that  had,  from  the  first,  oppressed  the  mind  of  the  young 
girl. 


76  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"No  very  great  skill,  I  imagine,"  was  the  smiling 
answer. 

"  It  is  a  rare,  but  valuable  gift,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
was  about  to  call  it  an  art ;  but  it  is  more  a  gift  than  an 
art;  for,  if  not  possessed  by  nature,  it  is  too  rarely 
acquired.  Yet,  in  all  pure  minds,  there  is  something 
that  we  may  call  analogous — a  perception  of  moral  qua 
lities  in  those  who  approach  us.  Have  you  never  felt 
an  instinctive  repugnance  to  a  person  on  first  meeting 
him?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  And  been  as  strongly  attracted  in  other  cases  ?" 

"  Often." 

"  Have  you  ever  compared  this  impression  with  your 
subsequent  knowledge  of  the  person's  character?" 

Fanny  thought  for  a  little  while,  and  then  said — 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have,  Mr.  Allison." 

"  You  have  found  yourself  mistaken  in  persons  after 
some  acquaintance  with  them  ?" 

"Yes;  more  than  once." 

"  And,  I  doubt  not,  that  if  you  had  observed  the  im 
pression  these  persons  made  on  you  when  you  met  them 
for  the  first  time,  you  would  have  found  that  impression 
a  true  index  to  their  character.  Scarcely  noticing  these 
first  impressions,  which  are  instinctive  perceptions  of 
moral  qualities,  we  are  apt  to  be  deceived  by  the  exterior 
which  almost  every  one  assumes  on  a  first  acquaintance ; 
and  then,  if  we  are  not  adepts  at  reading  character,  we 
may  be  a  long  time  in  finding  out  the  real  quality.  Too 
often  this  real  character  is  manifested,  after  we  have 
formed  intimate  relations  with  the  person,  that  may  not 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  77 

be  dissolved  while  the  heart  knows  a  life-throb.  Is  that 
not  a  serious  thought,  Fanny  ?" 

"  It  is,  Mr.  Allison, — a  very  serious,  and  a  solemn 
thought." 

"Do  you  think  that  you  clearly  comprehend  my 
meaning?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  see  all  you  wish  me  to  compre 
hend,"  answered  Fanny. 

"May  I  attempt  to  make  it  clearer?" 

"  I  always  listen  to  you  with  pleasure  and  profit,  Mr. 
Allison,"  said  Fanny. 

"  Did  you  ever  think  that  your  soul  had  senses  as  well 
as  your  body  ?"  inquired  the  old  man. 

"  You  ask  me  a  strange  question.  How  can  a  mere 
spirit — an  airy  something,  so  to  speak — have  senses  ?" 

"  Do  you  never  use  the  words — '  I  see  it  clearly' — 
meaning  that  you  see  some  form  of  truth  presented  to 
your  mind.  As,  for  instance, — if  I  say,  i  To  be  good  is  to 
be  happy,'  you  will  answer,  *  Oh,  yes ;  I  see  that  clearly.' 
Your  soul,  then,  has,  at  least,  the  sense  of  sight.  And 
that  it  has  the  sense  of  taste  also,  will,  I  think,  be  clear 
to  you,  when  you  remember  how  much  you  enjoy  the 
reading  of  a  good  book,  wherein  is  food  for  the  mind. 
Healthy  food  is  sometimes  presented  in  so  unpalatable  a 
shape,  that  the  taste  rejects  it ;  and  so  it  is  with  truth, 
which  is  the  mind's  food.  I  instance  this,  to  make  it 
clearer  to  you.  So  you  see  that  the  soul  has  at  least 
two  senses — sight  and  taste.  That  it  has  feeling  needs 
scarcely  an  illustration.  The  mind  is  hurt  quite  as  easily 
as  the  body,  and  the  pain  of  an  injury  is  usually  more 
permanent.  The  child  who  has  been  punished  unjustly 


78  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

feels  the  injury  inflicted  on  his  spirit,  days,  months,  and, 
it  may  be,  years,  after  the  body  has  lost  the  smarting 
consciousness  of  stripes.  And  you  know  that  sharp 
words  pierce  the  mind  with  acutest  pain.  We  may  speak 
daggers,  as  well  as  use  them.  Is  this  at  all  clear  to  you, 
Miss  Markland  ?" 

"  Oh,  very  clear  !  How  strange  that  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  this  myself!  Yes — I  see,  hear,  taste, 
and  feel  with  my  mind,  as  well  as  with  my  body.1' 

"  Think  a  little  more  deeply,"  said  the  old  man.  "  If 
the  mind  have  senses,  must  it  not  have  a  body  ?" 

"  A  body  !  You  are  going  too  deep  for  me,  Mr.  Alli- 
Bon.  "We  say  mind  and  body,  to  indicate  that  one  is  im 
material,  and  the  other  substantial." 

"May  there  not  be  such  a  thing  as  a  spiritual  as  well 
as  a  material  substance  ?" 

"  To  say  spiritual  substance,  sounds,  in  my  ears,  like  a 
contradiction  in  terms,"  said  Fanny. 

"  There  must  be  a  substance  before  there  can  be  a 
permanent  impression.  The  mind  receives  and  retains 
the  most  lasting  impressions ;  therefore,  it  must  be  an 
organized  substance — but  spiritual,  not  material.  You 
will  see  this  clearer,  if  you  think  of  the  endurance  of 
habit.  4  As  the  twig  is  bent,  the  tree's  inclined,'  is  a  trite 
saying  that  aptly  illustrates  the  subject  about  which  we 
are  now  conversing.  If  the  mind  were  not  a  substance 
and  a  form,  how  could  it  receive  and  retain  impressions?" 

"True." 

"  And  to  advance  a  step  further — if  the  mind  have 
form,  what  is  that  form  ?" 

"  The  human  form,  if  any,"  was  the  answer. 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  79 

"  Yes.  And  of  this  truth  the  minds  of  all  men  have 
a  vague  perception.  A  cruel  man  is  called  a  human 
monster.  In  thus  speaking,  no  one  thinks  of  the  mere 
physical  body,  but  of  the  inward  man.  About  a  good 
man,  we  say  there  is  something  truly  human.  And  be 
lieve  me,  my  dear  young  friend,  that  our  spirits  are  as 
really  organized  substances  as  our  bodies — the  difference 
being,  that  one  is  an  immaterial  and  the  other  a  material 
substance  ;  that  we  have  a  spiritual  body,  with  spiritual 
senses,  and  all  the  organs  and  functions  that  appertain 
to  the  material  body,  which  is  only  a  visible  and  material 
outbirth  from  the  spiritual  body,  and  void  of  any  life 
but  what  is  thence  derived." 

"  I  see,  vaguely,  the  truth  of  what  you  say,"  remarked 
Fanny,  "  and  am  bewildered  by  the  light  that  falls  into 
my  mind." 

"My  purpose  in  all  this,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "is  to 
lead  you  to  the  perception  of  a  most  important  fact.  Still 
let  your  thoughts  rest  intently  on  what  I  am  saying.  You 
are  aware  of  the  fact,  that  material  substances,  as  well 
inorganic  as  organic,  are  constantly  giving  off  into  the 
atmosphere  minute  particles,  which  we  call  odors,  and 
which  reveal  to  us  their  quality.  The  rose  and  night 
shade,  the  hawthorn  and  cicuta  fill  the  air  around  them 
with  odors  which  our  bodily  senses  instantly  perceive. 
And  it  is  the  same  with  animals  and  men.  Each  has  a 
surrounding  material  sphere,  which  is  perceived  on  a 
near  approach,  and  which  indicates  the  material  quality. 
Now,  all  things  in  nature  are  but  effects  from  interior 
causes,  and  correspond  to  them  in  every  minute  parti 
cular.  What  is  true  of  the  body  will  be  found  true  of  the 


80  TH.E    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

mind.  Bodily  form  and  sense  are  but  the  manifestation, 
in  this  outer  world,  of  the  body  and  senses  that  exist  in 
the  inner  world.  And  if  around  the  natural  body  there 
exist  a  sphere  by  which  the  natural  senses  may  deter 
mine  its  quality  of  health  or  impurity,  in  like  manner  is 
there  around  the  spiritual  body  a  sphere  of  its  quality, 
that  may  be  discerned  by  the  spiritual  senses.  And  now 
I  come  back  to  the  philosophy  of  first  impressions,  a 
matter  so  little  understood  by  the  world.  These  first 
impressions  are  rarely  at  fault,  and  why  ?  Because  the 
spiritual  quality  is  at  once  discerned  by  the  spiritual 
sense.  But,  as  this  kind  of  perception  does  not  fall  into 
the  region  of  thought,  it  is  little  heeded  by  the  many. 
Some,  in  all  times,  have  observed  it  more  closely  than 
others,  and  we  have  proverbs  that  could  only  have  origi 
nated  from  such  observation.  We  are  warned  to  beware 
of  that  man  from  whose  presence  a  little  child  shrinks. 
The  reason  to  me  is  plain.  The  innocent  spirit  of  the 
child  is  affected  by  the  evil  sphere  of  the  man,  as  its 
body  would  be  if  brought  near  to  a  noxious  plant  that 
was  filling  the  air  with  its  poisonous  vapours.  And  now, 
dear  Fanny," — Mr.  Allison  took  the  maiden's  hand  in 
his,  and  spoke  in  a  most  impressive  voice — "think  closely 
and  earnestly  on  what  I  have  said.  If  I  have  taxed 
your  mind  with  graver  thoughts  than  are  altogether 
pleasant,  it  is  because  I  desire  most  sincerely  to  do  you 
good.  The  world  into  which  you  are  about  stepping  is 
a  false  and  evil  world,  and  along  all  its  highways  and 
byways  are  scattered  the  sad  remains  of  those  who 
have  perished  ere  half  their  years  were  numbered ;  and 
of  the  crowd  that  pressed  onward,  even  to  the  farthest 


THE   GOOD    TIME    COMING.  81 

verge  of  natural  life,  how  few  escape  the  too  common  lot 
of  wretchedness  !  The  danger  that  most  threatens  you, 
in  the  fast-approaching  future,  is  that  which  threatens 
every  young  maiden.  Your  happiness  or  misery  hangs 
nicely  poised,  and  if  you  have  not  a  wise  discrimination, 
the  scale  may  take  a  wrong  preponderance.  Alas !  if 
it  should  be  so  !" 

Mr.  Allison  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"  Shall  I  go  on  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  Speak  freely.  I  am  listening  to  your 
words  as  if  they  came  from  the  lips  of  my  own  father." 

"  An  error  in  marriage  is  one  of  life's  saddest  errors," 
said  Mr.  Allison. 

"  I  believe  that,"  was  the  maiden's  calm  remark  ;  yet 
Mr.  Allison  saw  that  her  eyes  grew  instantly  brighter, 
and  the  hue  of  her  cheeks  warmer. 

"  In  a  true  marriage,  there  must  be  good  moral 
qualities.  No  pure-minded  woman  can  love  a  man  for 
an  instant  after  she  discovers  that  he  is  impure,  selfish, 
and  evil.  It  matters  not  how  high  his  rank,  how  brilliant 
his  intellect,  how  attractive  his  exterior  person,  how  per 
fect  his  accomplishments.  In  her  inmost  spirit  she  will 
shrink  from  him,  and  feel  his  presence  as  a  sphere  of 
suffocation.  Oh!  can  the  thought  imagine  a  sadder  lot  for 
a  true-hearted  woman !  And  there  is  no  way  of  escape. 
Her  own  hands  have  wrought  the  chains  that  bind  her  in 
a  most  fearful  bondage." 

Again  Mr.  Allison  paused,  and  regarded  his  young 
companion  with  a  look  of  intense  interest. 

"  May  heaven  spare  you  from  such  a  lot !"  he  said,  in 
a  low,  subdued  voice. 


82  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

Fanny  made  no  reply.  She  sat  with  her  eyes  resting 
on  the  ground,  her  lips  slightly  parted,  and  her  cheeks 
of  a  paler  hue. 

"  Can  you  see  any  truth  in  what  I  have  been  saying?" 
asked  Mr.  Allison,  breaking  in  upon  a  longer  pause  than 
he  had  meant  should  follow  his  last  remark. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes ;  much  truth.  A  new  light  seems  to 
have  broken  suddenly  into  my  mind." 

"  Men  bear  about  them  a  spiritual  as  well  as  a  natural 
sphere  of  their  quality." 

"  If  there  is  a  spiritual  form,  there  must  be  a  spiritual 
quality,"  said  Fanny,  partly  speaking  to  herself,  as  if 
seeking  more  fully  to  grasp  the  truth  she  uttered. 

"And  spiritual  senses,  as  well,  by  which  qualities  may 
be  perceived,"  added  Mr.  Allison. 

"  Yes, — yes."  She  still  seemed  lost  in  her  own 
thoughts. 

"  As  our  bodily  senses  enable  us  to  discern  the  quality 
of  material  objects,  and  thus  to  appropriate  what  is  good, 
and  reject  what  is  evil ;  in  like  manner  will  our  spiritual 
senses  serve  us,  and  in  a  much  higher  degree,  if  we  will 
but  make  the  effort  to  use  them." 

"I  see  but  darkly.  Oh  !  that  my  vision  were  clearer !" 
exclaimed  the  maiden,  while  a  troubled  expression 
slightly  marred  her  beautiful  face. 

"Ever,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  im 
pressively,  "be  true  to  your  native  instincts.  They  will 
quickly  warn  you,  if  evil  approaches.  Oh !  heed  the 
warning.  Give  no  favourable  regard  to  the  man  toward 
whom  you  feel  an  instinctive  repulsion  at  the  first  meet 
ing.  No  matter  what  his  station,  connections,  or  per- 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  83 

sonal  accomplishments — heed  the  significant  warning. 
Do  not  let  the  fascinations  of  a  brilliant  exterior,  nor 
even  ardent  expressions  of  regard,  make  you  for  a  mo 
ment  forget  that,  when  he  first  came  near  you,  your 
spirit  shrunk  away,  as  from  something  that  would  do  it 
harm.  If  you  observe  such  a  man  closely,  weigh  all 
that  he  does  and  says,  when  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of 
some  desired  object,  you  will  not  lack  for  more  palpable 
evidences  of  his  quality  than  the  simple  impression  which 
the  sphere  of  his  life  made  at  your  first  meeting.  Guarded 
as  men  are,  who  make  an  exterior  different  from  their 
real  quality,  they  are  never  able  to  assume  a  perfect  dis 
guise — no  more  than  a  deformed  person  can  so  hide,  by 
dress,  the  real  shape,  that  the  attentive  eye  cannot  dis 
cern  its  lack  of  symmetry.  The  eyes  of  your  spirit  see 
truths,  as  your  natural  eyes  see  material  objects ;  and 
truths  are  real  things.  There  are  true  principles,  which, 
if  obeyed,  lead  to  what  is  good ;  and  there  are  false 
principles,  which,  if  followed,  lead  to  evil.  The  one  con 
ducts  to  happiness,  the  other  to  inevitable  misery.  The 
warning  which  another  sense,  corresponding  with  the 
perception  of  odours  in  the  body,  gives  you  of  evil  in  a 
man,  at  his  first  approach,  is  intended  to  put  you  on 
your  guard,  and  lead  to  a  closer  observation  of  the  per 
son.  The  eyes  of  your  understanding,  if  kept  clear, 
will  soon  give  you  evidence  as  to  his  quality  that  cannot 
be  gainsaid.  And,  believe  me,  Fanny,  though  a  slight 
acquaintance  may  seem  to  contradict  the  instinctive 
judgment,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  warning  indica 
tion  will  be  verified  in  the  end.  Do  you  understand 
me?" 


84  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,"  was  the  low,  but  earnest  response.  Yet 
the  maiden's  eyes  were  not  lifted  from  the  ground. 

"Will  you  try  and  remember  what  I  have  said, 
Fanny?" 

"I  can  never  forget  it,  Mr.  Allison — never!"  She 
seemed  deeply  disturbed. 

Both  were  silent  for  some  time.  Mr.  Allison  then 
said: 

"  But  the  day  is  waning,  my  dear  young  friend.  It  is 
time  we  were  both  at  home." 

"  True."  And  Fanny  arose  and  walked  by  the  old 
man's  side,  until  their  ways  diverged.  Both  of  their 
residences  were  in  sight  and  near  at  hand. 

"  Do  not  think  of  me,  Fanny,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  when 
about  parting  with  his  companion,  "  as  one  who  would 
oppress  you  with  thoughts  too  serious  for  your  years.  I 
know  the  dangers  that  lie  in  your  path  of  life,  and  only 
seek  to  guard  you  from  evil.  Oh !  keep  your  spirit  pure, 
and  its  vision  clear.  Remember  what  I  have  said,  and 
trust  in  the  unerring  instinct  given  to  every  innocent 
heart." 

The  old  man  had  taken  her  hand,  and  was  looking 
tenderly  down  upon  her  sweet,  young  face.  Suddenly 
her  eyes  were  lifted  to  his.  There  was  a  strong  light  in 
them. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir  !" 

The  energy  with  which  these  unexpected  words  were 
spoken,  almost  startled  Mr.  Allison.  Ere  he  had  time 
for  a  response,  Fanny  had  turned  from  him,  and  was 
bounding  away  with  fleet  footsteps  toward  her  home. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  85 


CHAPTER  X. 

EARNESTLY  as  Fanny  Markland  strove  to  maintain  a 
calm  exterior  before  her  mother  and  aunt,  the  effort 
availed  not ;  and  so,  as  early  in  the  evening  as  she  could 
retire  from  the  family,  without  attracting  observation, 
she  did  so.  And  now  she  found  herself  in  a  state  of 
deep  disquietude.  Far  too  young  was  the  maiden  to 
occupy,  with  any  degree  of  calmness,  the  new  position 
in  which  she  was  so  unexpectedly  placed.  The  sudden  ap 
pearance  of  Mr.  Lyon,  just  when  his  image  was  beginning 
to  take  the  highest  place  in  her  mind,  and  the  circum 
stances  attending  that  appearance,  had,  without  effacing 
the  image,  dimmed  its  brightness.  Except  for  the  inter 
view  with  Mr.  Allison,  this  effect  might  not  have  taken 
place.  But  his  words  had  penetrated  deeply,  and  awaken 
ed  mental  perceptions  that  it  was  now  impossible  to  ob 
scure  by  any  fond  reasonings  in  favour  of  Mr.  Lyon. 
How  well  did  Fanny  now  remember  the  instant  repulsion 
felt  towards  this  man,  on  their  first  meeting.  She  had 
experienced  an  instant  constriction  about  the  heart,  as  if 
threatened  with  suffocation.  The  shadow,  too,  about 
which  Aunt  Grace  had  spoken,  had  also  been  perceived 
by  her.  But  in  a  little  while,  under  the  sunshine  of  a 
most  fascinating  exterior,  all  these  first  impressions  were 
lost,  and,  but  for  the  words  of  Mr.  Allison,  would  have 
been  regarded  as  false  impressions.  Too  clearly  had  the 
wise  old  man  presented  the  truth — too  clearly  had  ho 

elevated  her  thoughts  into  a  region  where  the  mind  sees 

8 


86  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

with  a  steadier  vision — to  leave  her  in  danger  of  entering 
the  wrong  way,  without  a  distinct  perception  that  it  was 
wrong. 

In  a  single  hour,  Fanny's  mind  had  gained  a  degree 
of  maturity,  which,  under  the  ordinary  progression  of 
her  life,  would  not  have  come  for  years.  But  for  this, 
her  young,  pure  heart  would  have  yielded  without  a 
struggle.  No  voice  of  warning  would  have  mingled  in 
her  ears  with  the  sweet  voice  of  the  wooer.  No  string 
would  have  jarred  harshly  amid  the  harmonies  of  her 
life.  The  lover  who  came  to  her  with  so  many  external 
blandishments — who  attracted  her  with  so  powerful  a 
magnetism — would  have  still  looked  all  perfection  in  her 
eyes.  Now,  the  film  was  removed ;  and  if  she  could  not 
see  all  that  lay  hidden  beneath  a  fair  exterior,  enough 
was  visible  to  give  the  sad  conviction  that  evil  might  be 
there. 

Yet  was  Fanny  by  no  means  inclined  to  turn  herself 
away  from  Mr.  Lyon.  Too  much  power  over  her  heart 
had  already  been  acquired.  The  ideal  of  the  man  had 
grown  too  suddenly  into  a  most  palpable  image  of  beauty 
and  perfection.  Earnestly  did  her  heart  plead  for  him. 
Sad,  even  to  tears,  was  it,  at  the  bare  thought  of  giving 
him  up.  There  was  yet  burning  on  her  pure  forehead  the 
hot  kiss  he  had  left  there  a  few  hours  before — her  hand 
still  felt  his  thrilling  touch — his  words  of  love  were  in 
her  ears — she  still  heard  the  impassioned  tones  in  which 
he  had  uttered  his  parting  "God  bless  you  !" 

Thus  it  was  with  the  gentle-hearted  girl,  exposed,  far 
too  soon  in  life,  to  influences  which  stronger  spirits  than 
hers  could  hardly  have  resisted. 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  87 

Midnight  found  Mrs.  Mark! and  wakeful  and  thought 
ful.  She  had  observed  something  unusual  about  Fanny, 
and  noted  the  fact  of  her  early  retirement,  that  evening, 
from  the  family.  Naturally  enough,  she  connected  this 
change  in  her  daughter's  mind  with  the  letter  received 
from  Mr.  Lyon,  and  it  showed  her  but  too  plainly  that 
the  stranger's  image  was  fixing  itself  surely  in  the  young 
girl's  heart.  This  conviction  gave  her  pain  rather  than 
pleasure.  She,  too,  had  felt  that  quick  repulsion  towards 
Mr.  Lyon,  at  their  first  meeting,  to  which  we  have  re 
ferred  ;  and  with  her,  no  after  acquaintance  ever  wholly 
removed  the  eifect  of  a  first  experience  like  this. 

Midnight,  as  we  have  said,  found  her  wakeful  and 
thoughtful.  The  real  cause  of  her  husband's  absence 
was  unknown  to  her ;  but,  connecting  itself,  as  it  didv' 
with  Mr.  Lyon, — he  had  written  her  that  certain  business, 
which  he  had  engaged  to  transact  for  Mr.  Lyon,  required 
his  presence  in  New  York, — and  following  so  soon  upon 
his  singularly  restless  and  dissatisfied  state  of  mind,  the 
fact  disquieted  her.  The  shadow  of  an  approaching 
change  was  dimming  the  cheerful  light  of  her  spirit. 

Scarcely  a  moment  since  the  reception  of  her  husband's 
letter,  enclosing  one  for  Fanny,  was  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Lyon  had  made  advances  toward  her  daughter — yet  far 
too  young  to  have  her  mind  bewildered  by  love's  mazy 
dream — absent  from  her  mind.  It  haunted  even  her 
sleeping  hours.  And  the  more  she  thought  of  it,  the 
more  deeply  it  disturbed  her.  As  an  interesting,  and 
even  brilliant,  companion,  she  had  enjoyed  his  society. 
With  more  than  usual  interest  had  she  listened  to  his 
varied  descriptions  of  personages,  places,  and  events; 


88  THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

and  she  had  felt  more  than  a  common  admiration  for 
his  high  mental  accomplishments.  But,  whenever  she 
imagined  him  the  husband  of  her  pure-hearted  child,  it 
seemed  as  if  a  heavy  hand  lay  upon  her  bosom,  repress 
ing  even  respiration  itself. 

Enough  was  crowding  into  the  mind  of  this  excellent 
woman  to  drive  slumber  from  her  eyelids.  The  room 
adjoining  was  occupied  by  Fanny,  and,  as  the  communi 
cating  door  stood  open,  she  was  aware  that  the  sleep  of 
her  child  was  not  sound.  Every  now  and  then  she 
turned  restlessly  in  her  bed ;  and  sometimes  muttered 
incoherently.  Several  times  did  Mrs.  Markland  raise 
herself  and  lean  upon  her  elbow,  in  a  listening  attitude, 
as  words,  distinctly  spoken,  fell  from  the  lips  of  her 
daughter.  At  last  the  quickly  uttered  sentence,  "Mother  ! 
mother !  come !"  caused  her  to  spring  from  the  bed  and 
hurry  to  her  child. 

"  What  is  it,  Fanny  ?  What  has  frightened  you  ?" 
she  said,  in  a  gentle,  encouraging  voice.  But  Fanny 
only  muttered  something  incoherent,  in  her  sleep,  and 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

For  several  minutes  did  Mrs.  Markland  sit  upon  the 
bedside,  listening,  with  an  oppressed  feeling,  to  the  now 
calm  respiration  of  her  child.  The  dreams  which  had 
disturbed  her  sleep,  seemed  to  have  given  place  to  other 
images.  The  mother  was  about  returning  to  her  own 
pillow,  when  Fanny  said,  in  a  voice  of  sad  entreaty — 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Lyon  !     Don't !  don't !" 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  breathless  stillness, 
and  then,  with  a  sharp  cry  of  fear,  the  sleeper  started 
up,  exclaiming — 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  89 

"Mother  !  father  !    Oh,  come  to  me  !     Come ! 
4 Fanny,  my  child!"   was   the   mother's  instant  re 
sponse,  and  the  yet  half-dreaming  girl  fell  forward  into 
her  arms,  which  were  closed  tightly  around  her.  What 
a  strong  thrill  of  terror  was  in  every  part  of  her  frame ! 

"  Dear  Fanny  !  What  ails  you  ?  Don't  tremble  so  ! 
You  are  safe  in  my  arms.  There,  love,  nothing  shall 
harm  you." 

"  Oh,  mother  !  dear  mother  !  is  it  you  ?"  half  sobbed 
the  not  yet  fully-awakened  girl. 

"  Yes,  love.  You  are  safe  with  your  mother.  But 
what  have  you  been  dreaming  about?" 

"  Dreaming  !"  Fanny  raised  herself  from  her  mother's 
bosom,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  bewildered  air. 

"  Yes,  dear — dreaming.  This  is  your  own  room,  and 
you  are  on  your  own  bed.  You  have  only  been  frightened 
by  a  fearful  dream." 

"  Only  a  dream  !  How  thankful  I  am  !  Oh !  it  was 
terrible  !" 

"What  was  it  about,  daughter?"  asked  Mrs.  Mark- 
land. 

Fanny,  whose  mind  was  getting  clearer  and  calmer, 
did  not  at  once  reply. 

"You  mentioned  the  name  of  Mr.  Lyon,"  said  the 
mother. 

"Did  I?"     Fanny's  voice  expressed  surprise. 

"  Yes.  Was  it  of  him  that  you  were  dreaming  ?" 

"  I  saw  him  in  my  dream,"  was  answered. 

"  Why  were  you  afraid  of  him  ?" 

"  It  was  a  very  strange  dream,  mother — very  strange," 
said  Fanny,  evidently  not  speaking  from  a  free  choice. 


90  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"I  thought  I  was  in  our  garden  among  the  flowers. 
And  as  I  stood  there,  Mr.  Lyon  came  in  through  the 
gate  and  walked  up  to  me.  He  looked  just  as  he 
did  when  he  was  here ;  only  it  seemed  that  about  his  face 
and  form  there  was  even  a  manlier  beauty.  Taking  my 
hand,  he  led  me  to  one  of  the  garden  chairs,  and  we  sat 
down  side  by  side.  And  now  I  began  to  see  a  change 
in  him.  His  eyes,  that  were  fixed  upon  mine,  grew 
brighter  and  deeper,  until  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  look 
far  down  into  their  burning  depths.  His  breath  came 
hot  upon  my  face.  Suddenly,  he  threw  an  arm  around 
me,  and  then  I  saw  myself  in  the  strong  folds  of  a  great 
serpent !  I  screamed  for  help,  and  next  found  myself 
in  your  arms.  Oh!  it  was  a  strange  and  a  fearful 
dream!" 

"And  it  may  not  be  all  a  dream,  Fanny,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  in  a  very  impressive  voice. 

"  Not  all  a  dream,  mother  !"  Fanny  seemed  startled 
at  the  words. 

"  No,  dear.  Dreams  are  often  merely  fantastic.  But 
there  come  visions  in  sleep,  sometimes,  that  are  permitted 
as  warnings,  and  truly  represent  things  existing  in  real 
life." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  mother." 

"  There  is  in  the  human  mind  a  quality  represented 
by  the  serpent,  and  also  a  quality  represented  by  the 
dove.  When  our  Saviour  said  of  Herod,  i  Go  tell  that 
fox,'  he  meant  to  designate  the  man  as  having  the  qua 
lity  of  a  fox." 

"But  how  does  this  apply  to  dreams?"  asked  Fanny. 

"  He  who  sends  his  angels  to  watch  over  and  protect 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  91 

us  in  sleep,  may  permit  them  to  bring  before  us,  in 
dreaming  images,  the  embodied  form  of  some  predomi 
nating  quality  in  those  whose  association  may  do  us 
harm.  The  low,  subtle  selfishness  of  the  sensual  princi 
ple  will  then  take  its  true  form  of  a  wily  serpent." 

Fanny  caught  her  breath  once  or  twice,  as  these  words 
fell  upon  her  ears,  and  then  said,  in  a  deprecating  voice — 

"  Oh,  mother  !  Don't !  don't !"  And  lifting  her  head 
from  the  bosom  of  her  parent,  she  turned  her  face  away, 
and  buried  it  in  the  pillow.  As  she  did  not  move  for  the 
space  of  several  minutes,  Mrs.  Markland  thought  it  un 
wise  to  intrude  other  remarks  upon  her,  believing  that 
the  distinct  image  she  had  already  presented  would  live 
in  her  memory  and  do  its  work.  Soon  after,  she  retired 
to  her  own  room.  Half  an  hour  later,  and  both  were 
sleeping,  in  quiet  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LATE  on  the  following  day,  Mr.  Markland  arrived  from 
New  York.  Eager  as  all  had  been  for  his  return,  there 
was  something  of  embarrassment  in  the  meeting.  The 
light-hearted  gladness  with  which  every  one  welcomed 
him,  even  after  the  briefest  absence,  was  not  apparent 
now.  In  the  deep,  calm  eyes  of  his  wife,  as  he  looked 
lovingly  into  them,  he  saw  the  shadow  of  an  unquiet 
spirit.  And  the  tears  which  no  effort  of  self-control 
could  keep  back  from  Fanny's  cheeks,  as  she  caught  his 


92  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

hand  eagerly,  and  hid  her  face  on  his  hreast,  answered 
too  surely  the  question  he  most  desired  to  ask.  It  was 
plain  to  him  that  Mr.  Lyon's  letter  had  found  its  way 
into  her  hands. 

"I  wish  it  had  not  been  so!"  was  the  involuntary 
mental  ejaculation.  A  sigh  parted  his  lips — a  sigh  that 
only  the  quick  ears  of  his  wife  perceived,  and  only  her 
heart  echoed. 

During  the  short  time  the  family  were  together  that 
evening,  Mr.  Markland  noticed  in  Fanny  something  that 
gave  him  concern.  Her  eyes  always  fell  instantly  when 
he  looked  at  her,  and  she  seemed  sedulously  to  avoid  his 
gaze.  If  he  spoke  to  her,  the  colour  mounted  to  her 
face,  and  she  seemed  strangely  embarrassed.  The  fact 
of  her  having  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Lyon,  the  con 
tents  of  which  he  knew,  as  it  came  open  in  one  received 
by  himself  from  that  gentleman,  was  not  a  sufficient  ex 
planation  of  so  entire  a  change  in  her  deportment. 

Mr.  Markland  sought  the  earliest  opportunity  to  con 
fer  with  his  wife  on  the  subject  of  Fanny's  altered  state 
of  mind,  and  the  causes  leading  thereto ;  but  the  con 
ference  did  not  result  in  much  that  was  satisfactory  to 
either  of  them. 

"  Have  you  said  any  thing  to  her  about  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Very  little,"  was  answered.  "  She  thought  it  would 
only  be  courteous  to  reply  to  his  letter ;  but  I  told  her 
that,  if  he  were  a  true  man,  and  had  a  genuine  respect 
for  her,  he  would  not  wish  to  draw  her  into  a  correspon 
dence  on  so  slight  an  acquaintance ;  and  that  the  only 
right  manner  of  response  was  through  you." 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  93 

"Through  me!" 

"  Yes.  Your  acknowledgment,  in  Fanny's  name,  when 
you  are  writing  to  Mr.  Lyon,  will  be  all  that  he  has  a 
right  to  expect,  and  all  that  our  daughter  should  be  per 
mitted  to  give." 

"But  if  we  restrict  her  to  so  cold  a  response,  and 
that  by  second-hand,  may  she  not  be  tempted  to  write 
to  him  without  our  knowledge  ?" 

"No,  Edward.  I  will  trust  her  for  that,"  was  the  un 
hesitating  answer. 

"  She  is  very  young,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  as  if  speak 
ing  to  himself. 

"Oh,  yes!"  quickly  returned  his  wife.  "Years  too 
young  for  an  experience — or,  I  might  say,  a  temptation 
— like  this.  I  cannot  but  feel  that,  in  writing  to  our 
child,  Mr.  Lyon  abused  the  hospitality  we  extended  to 
him." 

"Is  not  that  a  harsh  judgment,  Agnes?" 

"  No,  Edward.  Fanny  is  but  a  child,  and  Mr.  Lyon 
a  man  of  mature  experience.  He  knew  that  she  was  too 
young  to  be  approached  as  he  approached  her." 

"  He  left  it  with  us,  you  know,  Agnes ;  and  with  a 
manly  delicacy  that  we  ought  neither  to  forget  nor  fail 
to  appreciate." 

The  remark  silenced,  but  in  no  respect  changed  the 
views  of  Mrs.  Markland ;  and  the  conference  on  Fanny's 
state  of  mind  closed  without  any  satisfactory  result. 

The  appearance  of  his  daughter  on  the  next  morn 
ing  caused  Mr.  Markland  to  feel  a  deeper  concern. 
The  colour  had  faded  from  her  cheeks ;  her  eyes  were 


y4  THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

heavy,  as  if  she  had  been  weeping;  and  if  she  did  not 
steadily  avoid  his  gaze,  she  was,  he  could  see,  uneasy 
under  it. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Markland  had  finished  his  light  break 
fast  he  ordered  the  carriage. 

"You  are  not  going  to  the  city?"  his  wife  said,  with 
surprise  and  disappointment  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  Agnes,  I  must  be  in  town  to-day.  I  expect 
letters  on  business  that  will  require  immediate  atten 
tion." 

"  Business,  Edward !     What  business  ?" 

The  question  appeared  slightly  to  annoy  Mr.  Mark- 
land.  But  with  a  forced  smile,  and  in  his  usual  pleasant 
voice,  he  answered : 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  very  great  importance,  but  still  re 
quiring  my  presence.  Business  is  business,  you  know, 
and  ought  never  to  be  neglected." 

"Will  you  be  home  early  ?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Markland  walked  out  into  the  ample  porch,  and 
let  his  eyes  range  slowly  over  the  objects  that  surrounded 
his  dwelling.  His  wife  stood  by  his  side.  The  absence 
of  a  few  days,  amid  other  and  less  attractive  scenes,  had 
prepared  his  mind  for  a  better  appreciation  of  the  higher 
beauties  of  "  Woodbine  Lodge."  Something  of  the  old 
feeling  came  over  him ;  and  as  he  stood  silently  gazing 
around,  he  could  not  but  say,  within  himself,  "  If  I  do 
not  find  happiness  here,  I  may  look  for  it  through  the 
world  in  vain." 

The  carriage  was  driven  round  to  the  door,  while  he 
stood  there.  Fanny  came  out  at  the  moment,  and  seeing 


THE   GOOD    TIME   COMING.  95 

her  father  about  to  step  into  it,  sprang  forward,  and  ex 
claimed — 

"Why,  father,  you  are  not  going  away  again?" 

"  Only  to  the  city,  love,"  he  answered,  as  he  turned  to 
receive  her  kiss. 

"  To  the  city  again  ?  Why,  you  are  away  nearly  all 
the  time.  Now  I  wish  you  wouldn't  go  so  often." 

"  I  will  be  home  early  in  the  afternoon.  But  come, 
Fanny,  won't  you  go  with  me,  to  spend  the  day  in  town  ? 
It  will  be  a  pleasant  change  for  you." 

Fanny  shook  her  head,  and  answered,     "No." 

Mr.  Markland  entered  the  carriage,  waved  his  hand, 
and  was  soon  gliding  away  toward  the  city.  As  soon 
as  he  was  beyond  the  observation  of  his  family,  his  whole 
manner  underwent  a  change.  An  expression  of  deep 
thought  settled  over  his  face ;  and  he  remained  in  a  state 
of  profound  abstraction  during  his  whole  ride  to  the  city. 
On  arriving  there,  he  went  to  the  office  of  an  individual 
well  known  in  the  community  as  possessing  ample  means, 
and  bearing  the  reputation  of  a  most  liberal,  intelligent, 
and  enterprising  citizen. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Brainard,"  said  Markland,  with 
a  blending  of  respect  and  familiarity  in  his  voice. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Markland !"  returned  the  other,  rising,  and 
shaking  the  hand  of  his  visitor  cordially.  "  When  did 
you  get  back  from  New  York  ?" 

"  Yesterday  afternoon.  I  called  after  my  arrival,  but 
you  had  left  your  office." 

"  Well,  what  news  do  you  bring  home  ?  Is  every  thing 
to  your  mind?" 

"Entirely  so,  Mr.  Brainard." 


96  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  That's  clever — that's  right.  I  was  sure  you  would 
find  it  so.  Lyon  is  shrewd  and  sharp-sighted  as  an 
eagle.  We  have  not  mistaken  our  man,  depend  on  it." 

"  I  think  not." 

"  I  know  we  have  not,"  was  the  confident  rejoinder. 

"  Any  further  word  from  him,  since  I  left  ?" 

"  I  had  a  letter  yesterday.  He  was  about  leaving  for 
Mexico." 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  Mr.  Lyon,  the  young  English 
man  whom  I  saw  in  your  office  frequently,  a  short  time 
since  ?"  inquired  a  gentleman  who  sat  reading  the 
morning  paper. 

"  The  same,"  replied  Mr.  Brainard. 

"  Did  you  say  he  had  gone  to  Mexico  ?" 

"  Yes,  or  was  about  leaving  for  that  country.  So  he 
informed  me  in  a  letter  I  received  from  him  yesterday." 

"  In  a  letter  ?"     The  man's  voice  expressed  surprise. 

"  Yes.  But  why  do  you  seem  to  question  the  state 
ment?" 

"  Because  I  saw  him  in  the  city  day  before  yester 
day." 

"In  the  city!" 

"Yes,  sir.     Either  him  or  his  ghost." 

"Oh!  you're  mistaken." 

"  I  think  not.  It  is  rarely  that  I'm  mistaken  in  the 
identity  of  any  one." 

"  You  are,  assuredly,  too  certain  in  the  present  in 
stance,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  turning  to  the  gentleman 
who  had  last  spoken,  "  for,  it's  only  a  few  days  since  I 
received  letters  from  him  written  at  Savannah." 

Still  the  man  was  positive. 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  97 

"  He  has  a  hair-mole  on  his  cheek,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Brainard  and  Mr.  Markland  looked  at  each  other 
doubtingly. 

"  He  has,"  was  admitted  by  the  latter. 

"  But  that  doesn't  make  identity,"  said  Mr.  Brainard, 
with  an  incredulous  smile.  I've  seen  many  men,  in  my 
day,  with  moles  on  their  faces." 

"True  enough,"  was  answered;  "but  you  never  saw 
two  Mr.  Lyons." 

"You  are  very  positive,"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  growing 
serious.  "  Now,  as  we  believe  him  to  be  at  the  South, 
and  you  say  that  he  was  here  on  the  day  before  yester 
day,  the  matter  assumes  rather  a  perplexing  shape.  If 
he  really  was  here,  it  is  of  the  first  importance  that  we 
should  know  it ;  for  we  are  about  trusting  important 
interests  to  his  hands.  Where,  then,  and  under  what 
circumstances,  did  you  see  him?" 

"I  saw  him  twice." 

"Where?" 

"  The  first  time,  I  saw  him  alighting  from  a  carriage, 
at  the  City  Hotel.  He  had,  apparently,  just  arrived,  as 
there  was  a  trunk  behind  the  carriage." 

"  Singular  !"  remarked  Mr.  Brainard,  with  a  slightly 
disturbed  manner. 

"You 'are  mistaken  in  the  person,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  positively. 

"  It  may  be  so,"  returned  the  gentleman. 

"Where  did  you  next  see  him?"  inquired  Mr. 
Brainard. 

"  In  the  neighbourhood  of  the Railroad  Depot. 

Being  aware  that  he  had  spent  several   days  with  Mr. 
G  9 


98  THE   GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

Markland,  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  was  going  out  to 
call  upon  him." 

"Very  surprising.  I  don't  just  comprehend  this," 
said  Mr.  Markland,  with  a  perplexed  manner. 

"  The  question  is  easily  settled,"  remarked  Mr. 
Brainard.  "  Sit  here  a  few  moments,  and  I  will  step 
a  round  to  the  City  Hotel." 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  arose  and  went  quickly  from  his 
office.  In  about  ten  minutes  he  returned. 

"Well,  what  is  the  result?"  was  the  rather  anxious 
inquiry  of  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Can't  make  it  out,"  sententiously  answered  Mr. 
Brainard. 

"What  did  you  learn  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Lyon  has  not  been  there  ?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  He  certainly  was  not 
there  as  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  Was  any  one  there  answering  to  his  description  ?' 

"Yes." 

"From  the  South?" 

"  Yes.  From  Richmond — so  the  register  has  it ;  and 
the  name  recorded  is  Melville." 

"You  asked  about  him  particularly?" 

"  I  did,  and  the  description  given,  both  by  the  land 
lord  and  his  clerk,  corresponded  in  a  singular  manner 
with  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Lyon.  He  arrived  by  the 
southern  line,  and  appeared  hurried  in  manner.  Almost 
as  soon  as  his  name  was  registered,  he  inquired  at  what 

hour  the  cars  started  on  the road.  He  went  out 

in  an  hour  after  his  arrival,  and  did  not  return  until  late 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  99 

in  the  evening.  Yesterday  morning  lie  left  in  the  first 
southern  train." 

"  Well,  friends,  you  see  that  I  was  not  so  very  far  out 
of  the  way,"  said  the  individual  who  had  surprised  the 
gentlemen  by  asserting  that  Mr.  Lyon  was  in  the  city 
only  two  days  before. 

"  I  can't  believe  that  it  was  Mr.  Lyon."  Firmly  Mr. 
Markland  took  this  position. 

"  I  would  not  be  sworn  to  it — but  my  eyes  have  cer 
tainly  played  me  false,  if  he  were  not  in  the  city  at  the 
time  referred  to,"  said  the  gentleman  ;  "  and  let  me  say 
to  you,  that  if  you  have  important  interests  in  his  hands, 
which  you  would  regard  as  likely  to  suffer  were  he  really 
in  our  city  at  the  time  alleged,  it  will  be  wise  for  you  to 
look  after  them  a  little  narrowly,  for,  if  he  were  not  here, 
then  was  I  never  more  mistaken  in  my  life." 

The  man  spoke  with  a  seriousness  that  produced  no 
very  pleasing  effect  upon  the  minds  of  his  auditors,  who 
were,  to  say  the  least,  very  considerably  perplexed  by 
what  he  alleged. 

"  The  best  course,  in  doubtful  cases,  is  always  a  pru 
dent  one,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  as  soon  as  the  gentleman 
had  retired. 

"Unquestionably.  And  now,  what  steps  shall  we 
take,  under  this  singular  aspect  of  affairs  ?" 

"  That  requires  our  first  attention.  If  we  could  only 
be  certain  that  Mr.  Lyon  had  returned  to  the  city." 

"  Ah,  yes — if  we  could  only  be  certain.  That  he  was 
not  here,  reason  and  common  sense  tell  me.  Opposed 
to  this  is  the  very  positive  belief  of  Mr.  Lamar  that  he 
saw  him  on  the  day  before  yesterday,  twice." 


100  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"What  had  better  be  done  under  these  circum 
stances  ?"  queried  Mr.  Brainard. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  answer  that  question  both  to 
your  satisfaction  and  my  own,"  was  the  perplexed 
answer. 

"  What  was  done  in  New  York  ?" 

"  I  had  several  long  conferences  with  Mr.  Fenwick, 
whom  I  found  a  man  of  extensive  views.  He  is  very 
sanguine,  and  says  that  he  has  already  invested  some 
forty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Ah  !     So  largely  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  will  not  hesitate  to  double  the  sum,  if  re 
quired." 

"  His  confidence  is  strong." 

"  It  is — very  strong.  He  thinks  that  the  fewer  parties 
engage  in  the  matter,  the  better  it  will  be  for  all,  if  they 
can  furnish  the  aggregate  capital  required." 

"Why?" 

"  The  fewer  persons  interested,  the  more  concert  of 
action  there  will  be,  and  the  larger  individual  dividend 
on  the  business." 

"  If  there  should  come  a  dividend,"  said  Mr.  Brain 
ard. 

"That  is  certain,"  replied  Mr.  Markland,  in  a  very 
confident  manner.  "  I  am  quite  inclined  to  the  opinion 
of  Mr.  Fenwick,  that  one  of  the  most  magnificent  for 
tunes  will  be  built  up  that  the  present  generation  has 
seen." 

"  What  is  his  opinion  of  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 

"  He  expresses  the  most  unbounded  confidence.  Has 
known  him,  and  all  about  him,  for  over  ten  years ;  and 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  101 

says  that  a  man  of  better  capacity,  or  stricter  honour, 
is  not  to  be  found.  The  parties  in  London,  who  have 
intrusted  large  interests  in  his  hands,  are  not  the 
men  to  confide  such  interests  to  any  but  the  tried  and 
proved." 

"  How  much  will  we  be  expected  to  invest  at  the  be 
ginning?" 

"  Not  less  than  twenty  thousand  dollars  apiece." 

"  So  much  ?" 

"  Yes.  Only  two  parties  in  this  city  are  to  be  in  the 
Company,  and  we  have  the  first  offer." 

"You  intend  to  accept  ?" 

"  Of  course.  In  fact,  I  have  accepted.  At  the  same 
time,  I  assured  Mr.  Fenwick  that  he  might  depend  on 
you." 

"  But  for  this  strange  story  about  Mr.  Lyon's  return 
to  the  city — a  death's-head  at  our  banquet — there  would 
not  be,  in  my  mind,  the  slightest  hesitation." 

"It  is  only  a  shadow,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Shadows  do  not  create  themselves,"  replied  Mr. 
Brainard. 

"  No  ;  but  mental  shadows  do  not  always  indicate  the 
proximity  of  material  substance.  If  Mr.  Lyon  wrote  to 
you  that  he  was  about  starting  for  Mexico,  depend  upon 
it,  he  is  now  speeding  away  in  that  direction.  He  is  not 
so  sorry  a  trifler  as  Mr.  Lamar's  hasty  conclusion  would 
indicate." 

"A  few  days  for  reflection  and  closer  scrutiny  will  not 
in  the  smallest  degree  affect  the  general  issue,  and  may 
develope  facts  that  will  show  the  way  clear  before  us," 

said  Mr.  Brainard.     "  Let  us  wait  until  we  hear  again 

8* 


102  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

from  Mr.  Lyon,  before  we  become  involved  in  large  re 
sponsibilities." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  well  hold  back,"  replied  Mr. 
Markland.  "  I  have,  at  least,  honourably  bound  myself 
to  Mr.  Fenwick." 

"A  few  days  can  make  no  difference,  so  far  as  that  is 
concerned,"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  "and  may  develope  facts 
of  the  most  serious  importance.  Suppose  it  should  really 
prove  true  that  Mr.  Lyon  returned,  in  a  secret  manner, 
from  the  South,  would  you  feel  yourself  under  obligation 
to  go  forward  without  the  clearest  explanation  of  the 
fact?" 

"No,"  was  the  unhesitating  answer. 

"  Very  well.  Wait  for  a  few  days.  Time  will  make 
all  this  clearer." 

"  It  will,  no  doubt,  be  wisest,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  in 
a  voice  that  showed  a  slight  depression  of  feeling. 

"  According  to  Mr.  Lamar,  if  the  man  he  saw  was 
Lyon,  he  evidently  wished  to  have  a  private  interview 
with  yourself." 

"  With  me  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Both  Mr.  Lamar  and  the  hotel-keeper 
refer  to  his  going  to,  or  being  in,  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  cars  that  run  in  the  direction  of  '  Woodbine  Lodge.' 
It  will  be  well  for  you  to  question  the  various  members 
of  your  household.  Something  may  be  developed  in  this 
way." 

"If  he  had  visited  Woodbine  Lodge,  of  course  I 
would  have  known  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  with  a 
slightly  touched  manner,  as  if  there  were  something 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  103 

more  implied  by  Mr.  Brainard  than  was  clearly  ap 
parent. 

"No  harm  can  grow  out  of  a  few  inquiries,"  was  an 
swered.  "  They  may  lead  to  the  truth  we  so  much  de 
sire  to  elucidate,  and  identify  the  person  seen  by  Mr. 
Lamar  as  a  very  different  individual  from  Mr.  Lyon." 

Under  the  existing  position  of  things,  no  further  steps 
in  the  very  important  business  they  had  in  progress 
could  be  taken  that  day.  After  an  hour's  further  con 
ference,  the  two  men  parted,  under  arrangement  to  meet 
again  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IT  was  scarcely  mid-day  when  Mr.  Markland's  carriage 
drew  near  to  Woodbine  Lodge.  As  he  was  about  enter 
ing  the  gateway  to  his  grounds,  he  saw  Mr.  Allison,  a 
short  distance  beyond,  coming  down  the  road.  So  he 
waited  until  the  old  gentleman  came  up. 

"Home  again,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  in  his  pleasant,  in 
terested  way,  as  he  extended  his  hand.  "  When  did  you 
arrive  ?" 

"  Last  evening,"  replied  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Been  to  the  city  this  morning,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes.  Some  matters  of  business  required  my  atten 
tion.  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Allison,  I  grow  more  and  more 
wearied  with  my  inactive  life,  and  find  relief  in  any  new 
direction  of  thought." 


104  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

"You  do  not  design  re-entering  into  business?" 

"I  have  no  such  present  purpose."  Mr.  Markland 
stepped  from  his  carriage,  as  he  thus  spoke,  and  told  the 
driver  to  go  forward  to  the  house.  "  Though  it  is  im 
possible  to  say  where  we  may  come  out  when  we  enter  a 
new  path.  I  am  not  a  man  to  do  things  by  halves. 
Whatever  I  undertake,  I  am  apt  to  prosecute  with  con 
siderable  activity  and  concentration  of  thought," 

"  So  I  should  suppose.  It  is  best,  however,  for  men 
of  your  temperament  to  act  with  prudence  and  wise  fore 
thought  in  the  beginning — to  look  well  to  the  paths  they 
are  about  entering ;  for  they  are  very  apt  to  go  forward 
with  a  blind  perseverance  that  will  not  look  a  moment 
from  the  end  proposed." 

"  There  is  truth  in  your  remark,  no  doubt.  But  I 
always  try  to  be  sure  that  I  am  right  before  I  go  ahead. 
David  Crockett's  homely  motto  gives  the  formula  for  all 
high  success  in  life." 

"  Yes  ;  he  spoke  wisely.  There  would  be  few  drones 
in  our  hive,  if  all  acted  up  to  his  precept." 

"  Few,  indeed.  Oh !  I  get  out  of  all  patience  some 
times  with  men  in  business  ;  they  act  with  such  feeble 
ness  of  nerve — such  indecision  of  purpose.  They  seem 
to  have  no  life — none  of  those  clear  intuitions  that 
spring  from  an  ardent  desire  to  reach  a  clearly-seen  goal. 
Without  earnestness  and  concentration,  nothing  of  more 
than  ordinary  importance  is  ever  effected.  Until  a  man 
taxes  every  faculty  of  his  mind  to  the  utmost,  he  cannot 
know  the  power  that  is  in  him." 

"  Truly  said.  And  I  am  for  every  man  doing  his  best ; 
but  doing  it  in  the  right  way.  It  is  deplorable  to  see 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  105 

the  amount  of  wasted  effort  there  is  in  the  world.     The 
aggregate  of  misapplied  energy  is  enormous." 

"What  do  you  call  misapplied  energy ?"  said  Mark- 
land. 

"  The  energy  directed  by  a  wrong  purpose." 
"  Will  you  define  for  me  a  wrong  purpose  ?" 
"  Yes  ;  a  merely  selfish  purpose  is  a  wrong  one." 
"All  men  are  selfish,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 
"  In  a  greater  or  less  degree  they  are,  I  know." 
"  Then  all  misapply  their  energies  ?" 
"  Yes,  all — though  not  always.     But  there  is  a  beauti 
ful  harmony  and   precision  in  the  government  of  the 
world,  that  bends  man's  selfish  purposes  into  serving  the 
common  good.     Men  work  for  themselves  alone,  each 
caring  for  himself  alone ;  yet  Providence  so  orders  and 
arranges,  that  the  neighbour  is   more  really  benefited 
than   the    individual  worker  toiling    only  for   himself. 
Who  is  most  truly  served — the  man  who  makes  a  gar 
ment,  or  the  man  who  enjoys  its  warmth  ?  the  builder  of 
the  house,  or  the  dweller  therein  ?  the  tiller  of  the  soil, 
or  he  who  eats  the  fruit  thereof  ?     Yet,  how  rarely  does 
the  skilful  artisan,  or  he  who  labours  in  the  field,  think  of, 
or  care  for,  those  who  are  to  enjoy  the  good  things  of  life 
he  is  producing !     His  thought  is  on  what  he  is  to  re 
ceive,  not  on  what  he  is  giving ;  and  far  too  many  of 
those  who  benefit  the  world  by  their  labour  are  made 
unhappy  when  they  think  that  others  really  enjoy  what 
they  have  produced — if  their  thought  ever  reaches  that 
far  beyond  themselves." 

"  Man  is  very  selfish,  I  will  admit,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  thoughtfully. 


106  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"It  is  self-love,  my  friend,"  answered  the  old  man, 
"  that  gives  to  most  of  us  our  greatest  energy  in  life.  We 
work  ardently,  taxing  all  our  powers,  in  the  accomplish 
ment  of  some  end.  A  close  self-examination  will,  in 
most  cases,  show  us  that  self  is  the  main-spring  of  all 
this  activity.  Now,  I  hold,  that  in  just  so  far  as  this  is 
the  case,  our  efforts  are  misapplied." 

"  But  did  you  not  just  admit  that  the  world  was  bene 
fited  by  all  active  labour,  even  if  the  worker  toiled  self 
ishly?  How,  then,  can  the  labour  be  misapplied?" 

"  Can  you  not  see  that,  if  every  man  worked  with  the 
love  of  benefiting  the  world  in  his  heart,  more  good 
would  be  effected  than  if  he  worked  only  for  himself  ?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"And  that  he  would  have  a  double  reward,  in  the  na 
tural  compensation  that  labour  receives,  andjn  the  higher 
satisfaction  of  having  done  good." 

"Yes." 

"  To  work  for  a  lower  end,  then,  is  to  misapply  labour, 
so  far  as  the  man  is  concerned.  He  robs  himself  of  his 
own  highest  reward,  while  Providence  bends  the  efforts 
he  makes,  and  causes  them  to  effect  good  uses  to  the 
neighbour  he  would,  in  too  many  cases,  rather  injure  than 
benefit." 

"  You  have  a  curious  way  of  looking  at  things,  or, 
rather,  into  them,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  forcing  a 
smile.  "  There  is  a  common  saying  about  taking  the 
conceit  out  of  a  man,  and  I  must  acknowledge  that  you 
can  do  this  as  effectually  as  any  one  I  ever  knew." 

"When  the  truth  comes  to  us,"  said  the  old  gentle 
man,  smiling  in  return,  "  it  possesses  the  quality  of  a 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  10T 

mirror,  and  shows  us  something  of  our  real  state.  If  we 
were  more  earnest  to  know  the  truth,  so  far  as  it  applied 
to  ourselves,  we  would  be  wiser,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
better.  Truth  is  light,  and  when  it  comes  to  us  it  re 
veals  our  true  relation  to  the  world.  It  gives  the  ability 
to  define  our  exact  position,  and  to  know  surely  whether 
we  are  in  the  right  or  the  wrong  way.  How  beautifully 
has  it  been  called  a  lamp  to  our  path  !  And  truth  pos 
sesses  another  quality — that  of  water.  It  cleanses  as 
well  as  illustrates." 

Mr.  Markland  bent  his  head  in  a  thoughtful  attitude, 
and  walked  on  in  silence.  Mr.  Allison  continued : 

"  The  more  of  truth  we  admit  into  our  minds,  the 
higher  becomes  our  discriminating  power.  It  not  only 
gives  the  ability  to  know  ourselves,  but  to  know  others. 
All  our  mental  faculties  come  into  a  more  vigorous  ac 
tivity." 

"  Truth  !  What  is  truth  ?"  said  Mr.  Markland,  look 
ing  up,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  earnest  inquiry. 

"  Truth  is  the  mind's  light,"  returned  Mr.  Allison, 
"  and  it  comes  to  us  from  Him  who  said  '  Let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light,'  and  who  afterward  said,  '  I 
am  the  light  of  the  world.'  There  is  truth,  and  there  is 
the  doctrine  of  truth — it  is  by  the  latter  that  we  are  led 
into  a  knowledge  of  truth." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  find  truth  ?  How  are  we  to  be 
come  elevated  into  that  region  of  light  in  which  the  mind 
sees  clearly?" 

"  "We  must  learn  the  way,  before  we  can  go  from  one 
place  to  another." 

"Yes." 


108  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"If  we  would  find  truth,  we  must  first  learn  the  way, 
or  the  doctrine  of  truth  ;  for  doctrine,  or  that  which  illus 
trates  the  mind,  is  like  a  natural  path  or  way,  along  which 
we  walk  to  the  object  we  desire  to  reach." 

"  Still,  I  do  not  find  the  answer  to  my  question.  What 
or  where  is  truth?" 

"  It  often  happens  that  we  expect  a  very  different  re 
ply  to  the  query  we  make,  from  the  one  which  in  the  end 
is  received — an  answer  in  no  way  flattering  to  self-love, 
or  in  harmony  with  our  life-purpose.  And  when  I  an 
swer  you  in  the  words  of  Him  who  spake  as  never  man 
spoke — <  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,'  I  can 
not  expect  my  words  to  meet  your  state  of  earnest  ex 
pectation — to  be  really  light  to  your  mind." 

"No,  they  are  not  light — at  least,  not  clear  light," 
said  Mr.  Markland,  in  rather  a  disappointed  tone.  "  If 
I  understand  the  drift  of  what  you  have  said,  it  is  that 
the  world  has  no  truth  but  what  stands  in  some  relation, 
to  God,  who  is  the  source  of  all  truth." 

"Just  my  meaning,"  replied  Mr.  Allison. 

A  pause  of  some  moments  followed. 

"Then  it  comes  to  this,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  "that 
only  through  a  religious  life  can  a  man  hope  to  arrive  at 
truth." 

"Only  through  a  life  in  just  order,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  is  a  life  in  just  order  ?" 

"A  life  in  harmony  with  the  end  of  our  creation." 

"  Ah !  what  a  volume  of  meaning,  hidden  as  well  as 
apparent,  does  your  answer  involve !  How  sadly  out 
of  order  is  the  world  !  how  little  in  harmony  with  itself! 
To  this  every  man's  history  is  a  living  attestation." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  109 

"  If  in  the  individual  man  we  find  perverted  order,  it 
cannot,  of  course,  be  different  with  the  aggregated  man." 

"No." 

"  The  out  of  order  means,  simply,  an  action  or  force  in 
the  moral  and  mental  machinery  of  the  world,  in  a  direc 
tion  opposite  to  the  right  movement." 

"Yes;  that  is  clear." 

"  The  right  movement  God  gave  to  the  mind  of  man 
at  the  beginning,  when  he  made  him  in  the  likeness  and 
image  of  himself." 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  To  be  in  the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  is,  of  course, 
to  have  qualities  like  him." 

«  Yes." 

"  Love  is  the  essential  principle  of  God — and  love 
seeks  the  good  of  another,  not  its  own  good.  It  is, 
therefore,  the  nature  of  God  to  bless  others  out  of  him 
self  ;  and  that  he  might  do  this,  he  created  man.  Of 
course,  only  while  man  continued  in  true  order  could  he 
be  happy.  The  moment  he  obliterated  the  likeness  and 
image  of  his  Creator — that  is,  learned  to  love  himself 
more  than  his  neighbour — that  moment  true  order  was 
perverted :  then  he  became  unhappy.  To  learn  truth 
is  to  learn  the  way  of  return  to  true  order.  And  we 
are  not  left  in  any  doubt  in  regard  to  this  truth.  It  has 
been  written  for  us  on  Tables  of  Stone,  by  the  finger 
of  God  himself." 

"In  the  Ten  Commandments?"     • 

"  Yes.  In  them  we  find  the  sum  of  all  religion.  They 
make  the  highway  along  which  man  may  return,  without 
danger  of  erring,  to  the  order  and  happiness  that  were 

10 


110  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

lost  far  back  in  the  ages  now  but  dimly  seen  in  retro 
spective  vision.  No  lion  is  found  in  this  way,  nor  any 
ravenous  beast ;  but  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  may  walk 
there,  and  return  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon 
their  heads." 

"  It  will  be  in  vain,  then,  for  man  to  hope  for  any  real 
good  in  this  life,  except  he  keep  the  commandments," 
said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  All  in  vain,"  was  answered.  "And  his  keeping  of 
them  must  involve  something  more  than  a  mere  literal 
obedience.  He  must  be  in  that  interior  love  of  what 
they  teach,  which  makes  obedience  to  the  letter  spon 
taneous,  and  not  constrained.  The  outward  act  must  be 
the  simple  effect  of  a  living  cause," 

"Ah,  my  friend  !"  sighed  Mr.  Markland.  "  It  may  be 
a  true  saying,  but  who  can  hear  it?" 

"  We  have  wandered  far  in  the  wrong  direction — are 
still  moving  with  a  swift  velocity  that  cannot  be  checked 
without  painfully  jarring  the  whole  machinery  of  life; 
but  all  this  progress  is  toward  misery,  not  happiness, 
and,  as  wise  men,  it  behooves  us  to  stop,  at  no  matter  what 
cost  of  present  pain,  and  begin  retracing  the  steps  that 
have  led  only  to  discontent  and  disappointment.  It  is  all  in 
vain  that  we  fondly  imagine  that  the  good  we  seek  lies  only 
a  little  way  in  advance — that  the  Elysian  fields  will,  in 
the  end,  be  reached.  If  we  are  descending  instead  of 
ascending,  how  are  we  ever  to  gain  the  mountain  top  ?  If 
we  turn  our  backs  upon  the  Holy  City,  and  move  on  with 
rapid  footsteps,  is  there  any  hope  that  we  shall  ever  pass 
through  its  gates  of  pearl  or  walk  its  golden  streets  ? 
To  the  selfish  natural  mind,  it  is  a  '  hard  saying,'  as  you 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  Ill 

intimate,  for  obedience  to  the  commandments  requires 
the  denial  and  rejection  of  self;  and  such  a  rejection 
seems  like  an  extinguishment  of  the  very  life.  But,  if 
we  reject  this  old,  vain  life,  a  new  vitality,  born  of  higher 
and  more  enduring  principles,  will  at  once  begin.  Re 
member  that  we  are  spiritually  organized  forms,  recep 
tive  of  life.  If  the  life  of  selfish  and  perverted  ends 
becomes  inactive,  a  new,  better,  and  truer  life  will  begin. 
We  must  live ;  for  life,  inextinguishable  life,  is  the  inherit 
ance  received  from  the  Creator,  who  is  life  eternal  in 
himself.  It  is  with  us  to  determine  the  quality  of  life. 
Live  we  must,  and  forever — whether  in  order  or  disorder, 
happiness  or  misery,  is  left  to  our  own  decision." 

"How  the  thought,  as  thus  presented,"  said  Mr. 
Markland,  very  soberly — almost  sadly,  "thrills  me  to 
the  very  centre  of  my  being  !  Ah !  my  excellent  friend, 
what  vast  interests  does  this  living  involve  !" 

"  Vast  to  each  one  of  us." 

"I  do  not  wonder,"  added  Mr.  Markland,  "that  the 
old  hermits  and  anchorites,  oppressed,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
greatness  of  immortal  interests  over  those  involved  in 
natural  life,  separated  themselves  from  the  world,  that, 
freed  from  its  allurements,  they  might  lead  the  life  of 
heaven." 

"Their  mistake,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "was  quite  as 
fatal  as  the  mistake  of  the  worldling.  Both  missed  the 
road  to  heaven." 

"  Both  ?"     Mr.  Markland  looked  surprised. 

"  Yes  ;  for  the  road  to  heaven  lies  through  the  very 
centre  of  the  world,  and  those  who  seek  bypaths  will 
find  their  termination  at  an  immense  distance  from  the 


112  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

point  they  had  hoped  to  gain.  It  is  by  neighbourly  love 
that  we  attain  to  a  higher  and  diviner  love.  Can  this 
love  be  born  in  us,  if,  instead  of  living  in  and  for  the 
world's  good,  we  separate  ourselves  from  our  kind,  and 
pass  the  years  in  fruitless  meditation  or  selfish  idleness  ? 
No.  The  active  bad  man  is  often  more  useful  to  the 
world  than  the  naturally  good  or  harmless  man  who  is 
a  mere  drone.  Only  the  brave  soldier  receives  the  laurels 
of  his  country's  gratitude ;  the  skulking  coward  is  exe 
crated  by  all." 

The  only  response  on  the  part  of  Markland  was  a 
deep  sigh.  He  saw  the  truth  that  would  make  him  free, 
but  did  not  feel  within  himself  a  power  sufficient  to  break 
the  cords  that  bound  him.  The  two  men  walked  on  in 
silence,  until  they  came  near  a  lovely  retreat,  half  ob 
scured  by  encircling  trees,  the  scene  of  Fanny's  recent 
and  impassioned  interview  with  Mr.  Lyon.  The  thoughts 
of  Mr.  Allison  at  once  reverted  to  his  own  meeting  with 
Fanny  in  the  same  place,  and  the  disturbed  condition  of 
mind  in  which  he  found  her.  The  image  of  Mr.  Lyon 
also  presented  itself.  As  the  two  men  paused,  at  a  point 
where  the  fountain  and  some  of  the  fine  statues  were 
visible,  Mr.  Allison  said,  with  an  abruptness  that  gave 
the  pulse  of  his  companion  a  sudden  acceleration — 

"  Did  your  English  friend,  Mr.  Lyon,  really  go  South, 
before  you  left  New  York  ?" 

"  He  did.  But  why  do  you  make  the  inquiry  ?"  Mr. 
Markland  turned,  and  fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  the 
old  man's  face. 

"  I  was  sure  that  I  met  him  a  day  or  two  ago.  But  I 
was  mistaken,  as  a  man  cannot  be  in  two  places  at  once." 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  113 

"Where  did  you  see  the  person  you  took  for  Mr. 
Lyon?" 

"  Not  far  distant  from  here  ?" 

"  Where  ?" 

"A  little  way  from  the  railroad  station.  He  was 
coming  in  this  direction,  and,  without  questioning  the 
man's  identity,  I  naturally  supposed  that  he  was  on  his 
way  to  your  house." 

"  Singular  !  Very  singular  !"  Mr.  Markland  spoke 
to  himself. 

"  I  met  Fanny  a  little  while  afterward/'  continued 
Mr.  Allison,  "  and  I  learned  from  her  that  Mr.  Lyon  had 
actually  left  the  city.  No  doubt  I  was  mistaken ;  but  the 
person  I  saw  was  remarkably  like  your  friend  from  Eng 
land." 

"Where  did  you  meet  Fanny?"  abruptly  asked  Mr. 
Markland. 

"  In  the  little  summer-house,  yonder.  I  stepped  aside, 
as  I  often  do,  to  enjoy  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  place  for 
a  few  moments,  and  found  your  daughter  there  alone. 
She  answered,  as  you  have  done,  my  inquiry  about  Mr. 
Lyon,  that  he  left  for  the  South  a  few  days  before." 

"  He  did.  And  yet,  singularly  enough,  you  are  not  the 
only  one  who  has  mentioned  to  me  that  a  person  resembling 
Mr.  Lyon  was  seen  after  he  had  left  for  the  South — seen, 
too,  almost  on  the  very  day  that  letters  from  him  arrived 
by  mail.  The  coincidence  is  at  least  remarkable." 

"Remarkable  enough,"  answered  the  old  man,  "to 
lead  you,  at  least,  to  a  close  scrutiny  into  the  matter." 

"I  believe  it  only  to  be  a  coincidence,"   said  Mr. 

Markland,  more  confidently. 
H  10* 


114          THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 

"  If  the  fact  of  his  being  here,  at  the  time  referred  to, 
would  change  in  any  respect  your  relation  to  him,  then 
let  me  advise  the  most  rigid  investigation.  I  cannot  get 
rid  of  the  impression  that  he  really  was  here — and,  let 
me  speak  a  plainer  word — nor  that  he  met  your  daughter 
in  the  summer-house." 

Markland  started  as  if  an  adder  had  stung  him,  utter 
ing  the  word — 

"  Impossible !" 

"  Understand  me,"  calmly  remarked  the  old  man,  "  I 
do  not  say  that  it  was  so.  I  have  no  proof  to  offer.  But 
the  impression  has  haunted  me  ever  since,  and  I  cannot 
drive  it  away." 

"It  is  only  an  impression,  then?" 

"  Nothing  more." 

"  But  what  was  there  in  my  daughter's  conduct  that 
led  you  to  so  strange  an  impression  ?" 

"Her  manner  was  confused;  a  thing  that  has  never 
happened  at  any  previous  meeting  with  her.  But,  then, 
I  came  upon  her  suddenly,  as  she  sat  in  the  summer- 
house,  and  gave  her,  in  all  probability,  a  nervous  start." 

"  Most  likely  that  is  the  true  interpretation.  And  I 
can  account  for  her  rather  disturbed  state  of  mind  on 
other  grounds  than  a  meeting  with  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  That  is  good  evidence  on  the  other  side,"  returned 
Mr.  Allison,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  pardon  the  freedom 
I  have  taken  in  speaking  out  what  was  in  my  thoughts. 
In  no  other  way  could  I  express  so  strongly  the  high  re 
gard  I  have  for  both  yourself  and  family,  and  the  in 
terest  I  feel  in  your  most  excellent  daughter.  The  sin 
gular  likeness  to  Mr.  Lyon  in  the  person  I  met,  and  the 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  115 

disturbed  state  in  which  Fanny  appeared  to  be,  are  facts 
that  have  kept  almost  constant  possession  of  my  mind, 
and  haunted  me  ever  since.  To  mention  these  things  to 
you  is  but  a  common  duty." 

"  And  you  have  my  thanks,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  "  my 
earnest  thanks." 

The  two  men  had  moved  on,  and  were  now  at  some 
distance  from  the  point  where  the  sight  of  the  fountain 
and  summer-house  brought  a  vivid  recollection  to  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Allison  of  his  interview  with  Fanny. 

"  Our  ways  part  here,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Will  you  not  keep  on  to  the  house  ?  Your  visits 
always  give  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  No — not  at  this  time.  I  have  some  matters  at  home 
requiring  present  attention." 

They  stood  and  looked  into  each  other's  faces  for  a 
few  moments,  as  if  both  had  something  yet  in  their 
minds  unsaid,  but  not  yet  in  a  shape  for  utterance — then 
separated  with  a  simple  "  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THIS  new  testimony  in  regard  to  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Lyon  in  the  neighbourhood,  at  a  time  when  he  was  be 
lieved  to  be  hundreds  of  miles  away,  and  still  receding  as 
rapidly  as  swift  car  and  steamer  could  bear  him,  might 
well  disturb,  profoundly,  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Markland. 
What  could  it  mean  ?  How  vainly  he  asked  himself  this 


116  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

question.  He  was  walking  onward,  with  Ms  eyes  upon 
the  ground,  when  approaching  feet  made  him  aware  of 
the  proximity  of  some  one.  Looking  up,  he  saw  a  man 
coming  down  the  road  from  his  house,  and  only  a  few 
rods  distant  from  him. 

"  Mr.  Lyon,  now !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low,  agitated 
voice.  "What  does  this  mean?"  he  added,  as  his  mind 
grew  bewildered,  and  his  footsteps  were  stayed. 

Another  moment,  and  he  saw  that  he  had  erred  in  re 
gard  to  the  man's  identity.  It  was  not  Mr.  Lyon,  but  a 
stranger.  Advancing  again,  they  met,  and  the  stranger, 
pausing,  said: 

"Mr.  Markland,  I  believe?" 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  was  answered. 

"And  my  name  is  Willet." 

"  Ah,  yes !"  said  Mr.  Markland,  extending  his  hand. 
"  I  learned,  to-day,  in  the  city,  that  you  had  purchased 
Ashton's  fine  place.  I  am  happy,  sir,  to  make  your  ac 
quaintance,  and  if  there  is  any  thing  in  which  I  can  serve 
you,  do  not  hesitate  to  command  me." 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  offer,"  returned  Mr. 
Willet.  "  A  stranger  who  comes  to  reside  in  the  country 
has  need  of  friendly  consideration ;  and  I  stand  just  in 
that  relation  to  my  new  neighbours.  To  a  certain  ex 
tent,  I  am  ignorant  of  the  ways  and  means  appertaining 
to  the  locality ;  and  can  only  get  enlightened  through  an 
intercourse  with  the  older  residents.  But  I  have  no 
right  to  be  obtrusive,  or  to  expect  too  much  concession 
to  a  mere  stranger.  Until  I  am  better  known,  I  will 
only  ask  the  sojourner's  kindness — not  the  confidence 
one  friend  gives  to  another." 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  117 

There  was  a  charm  about  the  stranger's  manner,  and 
a  peculiar  music  in  his  voice,  that  won  their  way  into  the 
heart  of  Mr.  Markland. 

"Believe  me,  sir,"  he  replied,  "that  my  tender  of 
friendly  offices  is  no  unmeaning  courtesy.  I  compre 
hend,  entirely,  your  position  ;  for  I  once  held  just  your 
relation  to  the  people  around  me.  And  now,  if  there  are 
any  questions  to  which  an  immediate  answer  is  desired, 
ask  them  freely.  Will  you  not  return  with  me  to  my 
house  ?" 

"  Thank  you  !  Not  now.  I  came  over  to  ask  if  you 
knew  a  man  named  Burk,  who  lives  in  the  neighbour 
hood." 

"  Yes,  very  well,"  answered  Mr.  Markland. 

"Is  he  a  man  to  be  depended  upon ?" 

"  He's  clever,  and  a  good  man  about  a  place ;  but,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  not  always  to  be  depended  upon." 

"What  is  the  trouble  with  him  ?"  asked  Mr.  Willet. 

"  The  trouble  with  most  men  who  occasionally  drink 
to  excess." 

"  Oh  !  That's  it.  You've  said  enough,  sir ;  he  won't 
suit  me.  I  shall  have  to  be  in  the  city,  for  a  time,  almost 
every  day,  and  would  not,  by  any  means,  feel  safe  or 
comfortable  in  knowing  that  such  a  person  was  in  charge 
of  things.  Besides,  my  mother,  who  is  getting  in  years, 
has  a  particular  dread  of  an  intoxicated  man,  and  I  would 
on  no  account  expose  her  to  the  danger  of  being  troubled 
from  k  this  cause.  My  sisters,  who  have  lived  all  their 
lives  in  cities,  will  be  timid  in  the  country,  and  I  there 
fore  particularly  desire  the  right  kind  of  a  man  on  the 
premises — one  who  may  be  looked  to  as  a  protector  in 


118  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

my  absence.  You  understand,  now,  what  kind  of  a  per 
son  I  want?" 

"  Clearly." 

"  This  Burk  would  not  suit." 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  But  for  the  failing  I  have  men 
tioned,  you  could  hardly  find  a  more  capable,  useful, 
or  pleasant  man  in  the  neighbourhood;  but  this  mars 
all." 

"  It  mars  all  for  me,  and  for  reasons  I  have  just  men 
tioned,"  said  Mr.  Willet;  "so  we  will  have  to  pass  him 
by.  Is  there  any  other  available  man  about  here,  who 
would  make  a  trusty  overseer  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  of  one,  but  will  make  it  my  business 
to  inquire,"  returned  Mr.  Markland.  "  How  soon  will 
you  move  out  ?" 

"  In  about  a  week.  On  Monday  we  shall  send  a  few 
loads  of  furniture." 

"Cannot  you  hire  Mr.  Ashton;s  gardener?  He  is 
trusty  in  every  respect." 

"  Some  one  has  been  ahead  of  me,"  replied  Mr.  Willet. 
"  He  is  already  engaged,  and  will  leave  to-morrow." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that.  Mr.  Ashton  spoke  highly  of 
him." 

"  His  work  speaks  for  him,"  said  Mr.  Willet.  "  The 
whole  place  is  in  beautiful  order." 

"  Yes,  it  has  always  been  the  pride  of  its  owner,  and 
admiration  of  the  neighbourhood.  I  don't  know  how 
Mr.  Ashton  could  make  up  his  mind  to  part  with  it." 

"  I  am  certainly  much  obliged  to  him  for  yielding  it  to 
me,"  said  Mr.  Willet.  "  I  regard  myself  as  particularly 
fortunate.  But  I  will  not  detain  you.  If  you  should  think 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          119 

or  hear  of  any  one  who  will  suit  my  purpose,  I  shall  be 
under  particular  obligations  if  you  will  let  me  know." 

"  If  I  can  serve  you  in  the  matter,  be  sure  that  I  will 
do  so,"  replied  Mr.  Markland. 

Mr.  "VVillet  thanked  him  warmly  for  the  proffered  kind 
ness,  and  then  the  two  men  separated,  each  strongly  and 
favourably  impressed  by  the  other. 

"  That  startling  mystery  is  solved,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  taking  a  deep  breath.  "  This  is  the  other  Dromio. 
I  don't  wonder  that  Mr.  Allison  and  Mr.  Lamar  were 
deceived.  I  was,  for  a  moment.  What  a  likeness  he 
bears  to  Mr.  Lyon  !  Ah,  well ! — the  matter  has  worried 
me,  for  a  short  time,  dreadfully.  I  was  sure  that  I  knew 
my  man  ;  but  this  strange  affirmation  in  regard  to  him 
threw  me  into  terrible  doubts.  Thank  fortune  !  the 
mystery  is  completely  solved.  I  must  go  back  to  the 
city  this  very  afternoon,  and  see  Brainard.  It  will  not 
do  for  him  to  remain  long  in  doubt.  His  mind  might 
take  a  new  direction,  and  become  interested  in  some  other 
enterprise.  There  is  no  other  man  with  whom,  in  so  im 
portant  a  business  as  this,  I  would  care  to  be  associated." 

And  Mr.  Markland,  thus  communing  with  himself, 
moved  onward,  with  light  and  rapid  footsteps,  toward  his 
dwelling.  A  mountain  had  been  lifted  from  his  heart. 


120  THE   GOOD    TIME    COMING. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"You  had  a  visitor  this  afternoon,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  as  he  sat  conversing  with  his  wife  and  daughter, 
soon  after  his  arrival  from  the  city. 

"I  believe  not,"  returned  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  met  a  gentleman  coming  from  this  di 
rection,  and  he  said  that  he  had  been  here." 

"  A  gentleman  ?     Who  ?" 

"  Our  new  neighbour,  Mr.  Willet." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  he  called." 

"  He  may  only  have  inquired  for  me  at  the  door,"  said 
Mr.  Markland.  "  I  wish  you  had  seen  him." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  does  he  appear  to  be  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Markland. 

"  My  first  impressions  are  favourable.  But  there  is  a 
singular  fact  in  regard  to  his  appearance  in  our  neigh 
bourhood." 

Mrs.  Markland  and  Fanny  looked  up  curiously. 

"  I  have  been  very  much  worried,  since  my  return ;" 
and  Mr.  Markland's  eyes  rested  on  his  daughter,  as  he 
said  this.  The  change  that  instantly  passed  over  her 
face  a  little  surprised  him.  Her  eyes  fell  under  his  gaze, 
and  the  crimson  blood  rose  to  her  forehead. 

"What  has  worried  you?"  tenderly  inquired  Mrs. 
Markland. 

"  I  met  with  a  strange  rumour  in  the  city." 

"About  what?" 

"About  Mr.  Lyon." 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  121 

Mrs.  Markland's  whole  manner  changed,  her  usual 
quiet  aspect  giving  place  to  strongly  manifested  interest. 
Her  eyes,  as  well  as  those  of  her  husband,  turned  to 
ward  Fanny,  who,  by  partial  aversion,  sought  to  hide 
from  close  observation  her  suffused  countenance. 

"What  of  Mr.  Lyon?"  asked  Mrs.  Markland. 

"At  least  two  persons  have  affirmed,  quite  positively, 
that  they  saw  Mr.  Lyon,  as  well  in  the  city  as  in  this 
neighbourhood,  on  the  day  before  yesterday,"  said  Mr. 
Markland. 

The  colour  suddenly  receded  from  the  face  of  his  wife, 
who  looked  half-frightened  at  so  unexpected  an  announce 
ment.  Fanny  turned  herself  further  away  from  observa 
tion. 

"  Saw  Mr.  Lyon  !  Can  it  be  possible  he  did  not  go 
South  at  the  time  he  said  that  he  would  leave  ?"  Mrs. 
Markland's  voice  was  troubled. 

"He  went,  of  course,"  was  the  cheerful,  confident 
answer  of  Mr.  Markland. 

"You  are  sure  of  it?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !" 

"  How  do  you  explain  the  mystery,  if  it  may  so  be 
called?" 

"  After  hours  of  doubt,  perplexity,  and  uneasiness,  I 
met  the  man  himself." 

"Not  Mr.  Lyon?" 

Fanny  started  at  her  father's  announcement,  and 
partly  turned  toward  him  a  face  that  was  now  of  a  pallid 
hue. 

"No;  not  Mr.  Lyon,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  in  answer 
11 


122  THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

to  his  wife's  ejaculation,  "but  a  person  so  nearly 
resembling  him,  that,  for  a  few  moments,  even  I  was 
deceived." 

"How  singular  !     Who  was  the  man?" 

"Our  new  neighbour,  Mr.  Willet." 

"  Why,  Edward  !     That  is  remarkable." 

"  Yes,  it  is  really  so.  I  had  just  parted  from  Mr. 
Allison,  who  was  certain  of  having  seen  Mr.  Lyon  in  this 
neighbourhood,  on  the  day  before  yesterday,  when  I  met 
Mr.  Willet.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  was  startled  when  my 
eyes  first  rested  upon  him.  For  a  few  moments,  pulsa 
tion  was  suspended.  A  nearer  approach  corrected  my 
error  ;  and  a  brief  conversation  with  our  new  neighbour, 
gave  me  a  strong  prepossession  in  his  favour." 

Before  this  sentence  was  completed,  Fanny  had  arisen 
and  gone  quietly  from  the  room.  For  a  few  moments 
after  her  departure,  the  father's  and  mother's  eyes  rested 
upon  the  door  through  which  her  graceful  form  had 
vanished.  Then  they  looked  at  each  other,  sighed,  and 
were  silent. 

The  moment  Fanny  was  beyond  the  observation  of 
her  parents,  wings  seemed  added  to  her  feet,  and  she 
almost  flew  to  her  chamber. 

"Bless  the  child!  What's  the  matter?  She  looks 
frightened  to  death  !"  exclaimed  Aunt  Grace,  who  met 
her  on  the  way,  and  she  followed  her  quickly.  But, 
when  she  tried  to  open  the  chamber  door,  she  found  it 
locked  within. 

"  Fanny  !  Fanny,  child  !"  She  rattled  at  the  lock,  as 
she  thus  called  the  name  of  her  niece. 

But  no  sound  came  from  within. 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  123 

"Fanny!  Fanny!" 

The  sound  of  feet  was  on  the  floor. 

"Fanny!" 

"  What  is  wanted,  aunt  ?"  said  a  low,  husky  voice, 
close  to  the  door  within.  It  did  not  seem  like  the  voice 
of  Fanny. 

"I  wish  to  see  you  for  a  few  moments.      Let  me  in." 

"Not  now,  Aunt  Grace.  I  want  to  be  alone,"  was 
answered,  in  the  same  altered  voice. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !"  sighed  Aunt  Grace,  as  she  turned, 
disappointed  and  troubled,  from  the  door  of  her  niece's 
chamber.  "  What  is  coming  over  the  house  ?  and  what 
ails  the  child  ?  That  dreadful  Mr.  Lyon  is  at  the  bottom 
of  all  this.  Oh !  I  wish  the  ship  that  brought  him  over 
had  sunk  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean.  I  knew  he  would 
bring  trouble,  the  moment  my  eyes  rested  upon  him; 
and  it  is  here  quicker  than  I  expected." 

Fanny,  on  entering  her  room,  had  fallen,  half-fainting, 
across  her  bed.  It  required  a  strong  effort  to  arouse 
herself  and  sufficiently  command  her  voice  to  answer  the 
call  of  her  aunt  and  refuse  to  admit  her.  As  soon  as 
the  latter  had  gone  away,  she  staggered  back  to  her  bed, 
and  again  threw  herself  upon  it,  powerless,  for  the  time, 
in  mind  as  well  as  body.  Never,  before,  had  she  con 
cealed  anything  from  her  parents — never  acted  falsely, 
or  with  even  a  shadow  of  duplicity.  Into  what  a  fearful 
temptation  had  she  suddenly  fallen  ;  and  what  a  weight 
of  self-condemnation,  mingled  with  doubt  and  fear, 
pressed  upon  her  heart.  At  the  moment  when  she  was 
about  revealing  all  to  her  father,  and  thus  ending  his 
doubts,  her  purpose  was  checked  by  the  unlooked-for  an- 


124  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

nouncement  that  a  person  so  nearly  resembling  Mr. 
Lyon,  as  even  for  a  moment  to  deceive  her  father,  was 
in  the  neighbourhood,  checked  the  words  that  were  rising 
to  her  lips,  and  sealed  them,  for  the  time,  in  silence. 
To  escape  from  the  presence  of  her  parents  was  her 
next  impulse,  and  she  obeyed  it. 

Fully  half  an  hour  passed  before  calmness  was  re 
stored  to  the  mind  of  Fanny,  and  she  could  think  with 
any  degree  of  clearness.  From  childhood,  up  to  this 
period  of  her  life,  her  mother  had  been  her  wise  coun 
sellor,  her  loving  friend,  her  gentle  monitor.  She  had 
leaned  upon  her  in  full  confidence — had  clung  to  her  in 
weakness,  as  the  vine  to  its  strong  support.  And  now, 
when  she  most  needed  her  counsel,  she  shrunk  from  her, 
and  feared  to  divulge  the  secret  that  was  burning  pain 
fully  into  her  heart.  And  yet,  she  did  not  purpose  to 
keep  her  secret ;  for  that,  her  reason  and  filial  love  both 
told  her,  was  wrong ;  while  all  the  time  a  low,  sweet, 
almost  sad  voice,  seemed  murmuring  in  her  ear — "  Go 
to  your  mother  !" 

"  I  must,  I  will  go  to  her  !"  she  said,  at  last,  firmly. 
"  A  daughter's  footsteps  must  be  moving  along  danger 
ous  ways,  if  she  fears  to  let  her  mother  know  the  paths 
she  is  treading.  Oh,  mother !"  and  she  clasped  her 
hands  almost  wildly  against  her  bosom.  "  My  good, 
wise,  loving  mother  ! — how  could  I  let  a  stranger  come 
in  between  us,  and  tempt  my  heart  from  its  truth  to  you 
for  a  moment !  Yes,  yes,  you  must  know  all,  and  this 
very  hour." 

Acting  from  this  better  state  of  mind,  Fanny  unlocked 
her  door,  and  was  passing  along  one  of  the  passages  in 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  125 

the  direction  of  her  mother's  room,  when  she  met  Aunt 
Grace. 

"  Oh  !  child!  child  !  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  ex 
claimed  the  aunt,  catching  hold  of  her,  and  looking 
intently  into  her  pale  face.  "  Come,  now,  tell  me  all 
about  it — that's  a  dear,  good  girl." 

"  Tell  you  about  what,  Aunt  Grace  ?"  said  Fanny, 
with  as  much  firmness  as  she  could  assume,  trying,  as 
she  spoke,  to  disengage  herself  from  the  firm  grasp  with 
which  she  was  held. 

"  About  all  this  matter  that  troubles  you.  Why,  dear 
me  !  you  look  just  as  if  you'd  come  out  of  a  spell  of  sick 
ness.  What  is  it,  dear  ?  Now  do  tell  your  aunty,  who 
loves  you  just  as  well  as  if  you  were  her  own  child.  Do, 
love." 

And  Aunt  Grace  tried  to  draw  the  head  of  Fanny 
close  to  her  bosom.  But  her  niece  struggled  to  be  free, 
answering,  as  she  did  so — 

"  Don't  question  me  now,  Aunt  Grace,  please.  Only 
let  me  go  to  mother.  I  want  to  see  her." 

"  She  is  not  in  her  room,"  said  Miss  Markland. 

"Are  you  certain?" 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"  Where  is  she,  then  ?" 

"  In  the  library,  with  your  father." 

Without  a  word  more,  Fanny  turned  from  her  aunt, 
and,  gliding  back  to  her  own  chamber,  entered,  and  closed 
the  door. 

"Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear  !  What  does  ail  the  child?" 
almost  sobbed  Aunt  Grace,  wringing  her  hands  together, 

as  she  stood,  with  a  bewildered  air,  gazing  upon  the  door 

11* 


126  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

through  which  the  form  of  her  niece  had  just  passed. 
"  Something  is  the  matter — something  dreadful.  And 
it  all  comes  of  Edward's  foolish  confidence  in  a  stranger, 
that  I  could  see,  with  half  an  eye,  was  not  a  man  to  be 
trusted." 

For  some  minutes,  Miss  Markland  remained  standing 
as  her  niece  had  left  her,  trying  to  make  up  her  mind  to 
act  in  some  decided  way  for  the  remedy  of  existing 
troubles. 

"I'll  just  speak  to  Edward  plainly  about  this  busi 
ness,"  she  at  length  said,  with  considerable  warmth  of 
manner.  "  Shall  I  stand,  with  sealed  lips,  and  witness 
such  a  sacrifice?  No — no — no  !" 

And  with  nothing  clearly  settled  or  arranged  in  her 
thoughts,  Aunt  Grace  started  for  the  library,  with  the  in 
tention  of  speaking  out  plainly  to  her  brother.  The 
opportunity  for  doing  so,  however,  did  not  occur ;  for,  on 
entering  the  library,  she  found  it  empty. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MR.  MARKLAND  was  entirely  satisfied.  All  doubt  van 
ished  from  his  mind.  The  singular  resemblance  of  their 
new  neighbour  to  Mr.  Lyon  cleared  up  the  whole  mys 
tery.  It  was  Mr.  Willet  who  had  been  mistaken  for  the 
young  Englishman. 

"  If  it  were  not  so  late,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  sun, 
as  he  stood  in  the  porch,  "I  would  go  into  the  city  and 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  127 

see  Mr.  Brainard.  It  is  unfortunate  that  any  doubtful 
questions  in  regard  to  Mr.  Lyon  should  have  intruded 
themselves  upon  him,  and  his  mind  should  be  disabused 
as  quickly  as  possible.  It  is  singular  how  positive  some 
men  are,  right  or  wrong.  Now,  Lamar  was  almost  ready 
to  be  sworn  that  he  saw  Mr.  Lyon  in  the  city  day  before 
yesterday,  although  he  was,  at  the  time,  distant  from  him 
many  hundreds  of  miles ;  and,  but  for  my  fortunate 
meeting  with  "Willet  this  afternoon,  his  confident  asser 
tion  of  his  belief  would,  in  all  probability,  have  caused 
the  most  disastrous  consequences.  From  what  light 
causes  do  most  important  events  sometimes  spring !" 

On  returning  to  her  own  apartment,  the  thoughts  of 
Fanny  began  to  flow  in  another  channel.  The  interest 
which  the  young  stranger  had  awakened  in  her  mind 
was  no  fleeting  impulse.  His  image,  daguerreotyped  on 
her  heart,  no  light  breath  could  dim.  That  he  was  good 
and  honourable,  she  believed;  and,  therefore,  had  faith 
in  him.  Yet  had  his  sudden  appearance  and  injunction 
of  silence  disturbed  her,  as  we  have  seen,  very  deeply. 
Her  guileless  heart  shrunk  from  concealment,  as  if  it 
were  something  evil.  How  bewildered  were  all  her  per 
ceptions,  usually  so  calm  !  A  sense  of  relief  had  been  felt, 
the  instant  she  saw  that  her  father's  mind  was  no  longer 
in  doubt  on  the  question  of  Mr.  Lyon's  return  from  the 
South — relief,  that  he  was  deceived  in  a  matter  which 
might  involve  the  most  serious  consequences.  But  this 
feeling  did  not  very  long  remain ;  and  she  became  the 
subject  of  rapidly  alternating  states. 

Fanny  remained  alone  until  the  summons  to  tea 
startled  her  from  a  sad,  half-dreaming  state  of  mind. 


128  THE   GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

Not  to  meet  her  father  and  mother  at  the  tea-table  would, 
she  saw,  attract  toward  her  a  closer  attention  than  if 
she  mingled  with  the  family  at  their  evening  meal ;  and 
so  she  forced  herself  away  from  the  congenial  seclusion 
of  her  own  apartment.  As  she  took  her  place  at  the 
table,  she  was  conscious  that  the  eyes  of  her  father  and 
mother,  as  well  as  those  of  Aunt  Grace,  were  fixed 
scrutinizingly  upon  her ;  and  she  felt  the  blood  growing 
warmer  in  her  cheeks,  and  flushing  her  whole  counte 
nance.  An  unusual  restraint  marked  the  intercourse  of 
all  during  their  meal.  Two  or  three  times  Mr.  Mark-1 
land  sought  to  draw  his  daughter  into  a  conversation ; 
but  she  replied  to  his  remarks  in  the  briefest  manner, 
and  evidently  wished  to  escape  all  notice. 

"I'm  really  troubled  about  Fanny,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land  to  her  husband,  as  they  sat  looking  out  upon  the 
fading  landscape,  as  the  twilight  deepened. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  I've  not  had  a  glimpse  of  her  since  tea." 

"  In  her  own  room,  I  suppose,  where  she  now  spends  the 
greater  part  of  her  time.  She  has  become  reserved,  and 
her  eyes  grow  moist,  and  her  cheeks  flushed,  if  you  speak 
to  her  suddenly." 

"  You  must  seek  her  confidence,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"I  want  that  without  the  apparent  seeking,"  was  an 
swered.  "  She  knows  me  as  her  truest  friend,  and  I  am 
waiting  until  she  comes  to  me  in  the  most  unreserved 
freedom." 

"  But  will  she  come  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  yes  !" — was  the  confidently-spoken  answer. 
"  Soon  her  heart  will  be  laid  open  to  me  like  the  pages 
of  a  book,  so  that  I  can  read  all  that  is  written  there." 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  129 

"Mr.  Lyon  awakened  a  strong  interest  in  her  feelings 
— that  is  clearly  evident." 

"  Too  strong  ;  and  I  cannot  but  regard  his  coming  to 
Woodbine  Lodge  as  a  circumstance  most  likely  to  shadow 
all  our  future." 

"  I  do  really  believe,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  affecting  a 
playful  mood,  "  that  you  have  a  latent  vein  of  supersti 
tion  in  your  character." 

"You  may  think  so,  Edward,"  was  the  seriously- 
spoken  answer ;  "  but  I  am  very  sure  that  the  concern 
now  oppressing  my  heart  is  far  more  deeply  grounded 
than  your  words  indicate.  Who,  beside  Mr.  Lamar,  told 
you  that  he  saw,  or  believed  that  he  saw,  Mr.  Lyon?" 

"  Mr.  Allison." 

"Mr.  Allison!" 

"Yes." 

"  Where  did  he  see  him  ?" 

"  He  didn't  see  him  at  all,"  confidently  answered  Mr. 
Markland.  "  He  saw  Mr.  Willet." 

"  He  believed  that  the  person  he  saw  was  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  So  did  I,  until  a  nearer  approach  convinced  me  that 
I  was  in  error.  If  I  could  be  deceived,  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Allison  was  also  deceived  is  by  no  means  a  remark 
able  circumstance." 

"  Was  it  in  this  neighbourhood  that  he  saw  the  person 
he  believed  to  be  Mr  Lyon  ?" 

"Yes." 

Mrs.  Markland's  eyes  fell  to  the  ground,  and  she  sat, 
for  a  long  time,  so  entirely  abstracted,  as  almost  to  lose 
her  consciousness  of  external  things. 

"  The  dew  is  rather  heavy  this  evening,"  said  her  hus- 


130  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

band,  arousing  her  by  the  words.  She  arose,  and  they 
went  together  into  the  sitting-room,  where  they  found 
all  but  Fanny.  Soon  after,  Mr.  Markland  went  to  his 
library,  and  gave  up  his  thoughts  entirely  to  the  new 
business  in  which  he  was  engaged  with  Mr.  Lyon.  How 
golden  was  the  promise  that  lured  him  on  !  He  was  be 
coming  impatient  to  tread  with  swift  feet  the  path  to 
large  wealth  and  honourable  distinction  that  was  opening 
before  him.  A  new  life  had  been  born  in  his  mind — it 
was  something  akin  to  ambition.  In  former  times,  busi 
ness  was  regarded  as  the  means  by  which  a  competency 
might  be  obtained  ;  and  he  pursued  it  with  this  end.  Hav 
ing  secured  wealth,  he  retired  from  busy  life,  hoping  to 
find  ample  enjoyment  in  the  seclusion  of  an  elegant  rural 
home.  But,  already,  restlessness  had  succeeded  to  in 
activity,  and  now  his  mind  was  gathering  up  its  latent 
strength  for  new  efforts,  in  new  and  broader  fields,  and 
under  the  spur  of  a  more  vigorous  impulse. 

"  Edward  !"  It  was  the  low  voice  of  his  wife,  and  the 
soft  touch  of  her  hand,  that  startled  the  dreaming  en 
thusiast  from  visions  of  wealth  and  power  that  dazzled 
him  with  their  brilliancy. 

"  Come,  Edward,  it  is  growing  late,"  said  his  wife. 

"  How  late?"  he  replied,  looking  up  from  the  paper 
he  had  covered  with  various  memoranda  and  clusters  of 
figures. 

"It  is  past  eleven  o'clock." 

"  That  cannot  be,  Agnes.  It  is  only  a  short  time  since 
I  left  the  table. 

"  Full  three  hours.  All  have  retired  and  are  sleep 
ing.  Ah,  my  husband  !  I  do  not  like  this  new  direction 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  181 

your  thoughts  are  taking.  To  me,  there  is  in  it  a  pro 
phecy  of  evil  to  us  all." 

"A  mere  superstitious  impression,  Agnes  dear:  no 
thing  more,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  am  in  the  vigour 
of  manhood.  My  mind  is  yet  clear,  strong,  and  sugges 
tive — and  my  reason,  I  hope,  more  closely  discrimina 
ting,  as  every  man's  should  be  with  each  added  year  of 
his  life.  Shall  I  let  all  these  powers  slumber  in  disgrace 
ful  inactivity  !  No,  Agnes,  it  cannot,  must  not  be." 

Mr.  Markland  spoke  with  a  fervid  enthusiasm  that 
silenced  his  wife — confusing  her  thoughts,  but  in  no  way 
inspiring  her  with  confidence.  Hitherto,  he  had  felt  de 
sirous  of  concealing  from  her  the  fact  that  he  was  really 
entering  into  new  business  responsibilities ;  but  now,  in 
his  confident  anticipations  of  success,  he  divulged  a  por 
tion  of  the  enlarged  range  of  operations  in  which  he  was 
to  be  an  active  co-worker. 

"  We  have  enough,  Edward,"  was  the  almost  mourn 
fully-uttered  reply  of  Mrs.  Markland — "  why,  then,  in 
volve  yourself  in  business  cares  ?  Large  transactions 
like  these  bring  anxious  days  and  wakeful  nights.  They 
are  connected  with  trouble,  fatigue,  disappointment,  and, 
Edward  !  sometimes  ruin!" 

Very  impressively  were  the  last  words  spoken  ;  but 
Mr.  Markland  answered  almost  lightly — 

"  None  of  your  imagined  drawbacks  have  any  terror 
for  me,  Agnes.  As  for  the  ruin,  I  shall  take  good  care 
not  to  invite  that  by  any  large  risks  or  imprudent  specu 
lations.  There  are  few  dangers  for  wise  and  prudent 
men,  in  any  business.  It  is  the  blind  who  fall  into  the 
ditch — the  reckless  who  stumble.  You  may  be  very  cer- 


132  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

tain  that  your  husband  will  not  shut  his  eyes  in  walking 
along  new  paths,  nor  attempt  the  navigation  of  unac 
customed  seas  without  the  most  reliable  charts." 

To  this,  Mrs.  Markland  could  answer  nothing.  But 
his  wrords  gave  her  no  stronger  confidence  in  the  success 
ful  result  of  his  schemes ;  for  well  assured  was  she,  in 
her  perceptive  Christian  philosophy,  that  man's  success 
in  any  pursuit  was  no  accidental  thing,  nor  always  de 
pendent  on  his  own  prudence ;  the  ends  he  had  in  view 
oftener  determining  the  result,  than  any  merit  or  defect 
in  the  means  employed.  So,  the  weight  of  concern 
which  this  new  direction  of  her  husband's  active  purpose 
had  laid  upon  her  heart,  was  in  no  way  lightened  by  his 
confident  assurances. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

MR.  MAEKLAND  went  to  the  city  early  on  the  next 
morning.  Fanny  had  not  made  her  appearance  when 
he  left.  This  fact,  at  any  other  time,  would  have  excited 
his  attention,  and  caused  an  earnest  inquiry  as  to  the 
cause  of  her  absence  from  the  morning  meal.  But  now 
his  thoughts  were  too  intently  fixed  on  other  things.  He 
had  suddenly  become  an  aeriel  castle-builder,  and  all  his 
mind  was  absorbed  in  contemplating  the  magnificent 
structures  that  were  rising  up  at  the  creative  touch  of 
imagination. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  133 

Mr.  Brainard,  upon  whom  he  called  immediately  upon 
his  arrival  in  the  city,  was  not  so  easily  satisfied  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Lyon's  alleged  return  to  the  city.  He 
happened  to  know  Mr.  Willet,  and,  while  he  admitted 
that  there  was  a  general  resemblance  between  the  two 
men,  did  not  consider  it  sufficiently  striking  to  deceive 
any  one  as  to  the  identity  of  either. 

"But  /was  deceived,"  confidently  asserted  Mr.  Mark- 
land. 

"That  is  not  so  remarkable  under  the  circumstances," 
was  answered.  "You  had  Lyon  distinctly  in  your 
thought,  from  being  most  positively  assured  of  his  recent 
presence  in  your  neighbourhood,  and  when  a  stranger, 
bearing  some  resemblance  to  him,  suddenly  came  in 
sight,  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  were  on  the  instant  de 
ceived.  I  might  have  been." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  The  likeness  between  the  two  men 
is  remarkable." 

"  But  Willet  has  no  hair  mole  on  his  cheek ;  and  to 
that  mark,  you  will  remember,  Lamar  particularly  testi 
fied." 

"  The  mark  may  only  have  been  in  his  mind,  and  not 
on  the  face  of  the  person  he  met.  Believing  it  to  be  Mr. 
Lyon,  he  saw  the  hair  mole,  as  well  as  the  other  pecu 
liarities  of  his  countenance." 

"No  such  explanations  can  satisfy  me,"  replied  Mr. 
Brainard.  "  I  have  thought  over  the  matter  a  great 
deal  since  I  saw  you,  and  my  mind  is  pretty  well  made 
up  to  withdraw  from  this  whole  business  while  I  am  at 
liberty  to  do  so,  without  pecuniary  loss  or  any  compro 
mise  of  honour." 

12 


134  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

"And  let  such  a  golden  opportunity  pass?"  said 
Markland,  in  a  voice  husky  with  disappointment. 

"If  you  will,"  was  calmly  answered.  "I  am  a  firm 
believer  in  the  '  bird  in  the  hand '  doctrine.  There  are  a 
great  many  fine  singers  in  the  bush,  but  I  want  to  see 
them  safely  caged  before  I  neglect  the  door  that  shuts 
in  the  bird  I  possess  already." 

"But  you  surely  cannot  be  in  earnest  about  with 
drawing  from  this  business,"  said  Markland. 

"Very  much  in  earnest.  Since  yesterday,  I  have 
turned  the  matter  over  in  my  mind  constantly,  and 
viewed  it  in  many  lights  and  from  many  positions ;  and 
my  deliberate  convictions  are,  that  it  is  wisest  for  me  to 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  these  splendid  schemes; 
and  if  you  will  be  governed  by  an  old  stager's  advice, 
resolve  to  act  likewise." 

"When  my  hands  are  once  fairly  on  the  plough," 
answered  Mr.  Markland,  "  I  never  look  back.  Before 
engaging  in  any  new  business,  I  thoroughly  examine  its 
promise,  and  carefully  weigh  all  the  probabilities  of  suc 
cess  or  failure.  After  my  decision  is  made,  I  never 
again  review  the  ground  over  which  I  travelled  in  coming 
to  a  decision,  but  pass  onward  with  faith  and  vigour  in 
the  accomplishment  of  all  that  I  have  undertaken.  More 
men  are  ruined  by  vacillation  than  from  any  other 
cause." 

"  My  observation  brings  me  to  another  conclusion," 
quietly  returned  Mr.  Brainard.  The  earnest  enthusiasm 
of  the  one,  and  the  immovable  coolness  of  the  other, 
were  finely  contrasted. 

"'And  what  is  that?"  inquired  Mr.  Markland. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  135 

"  Why,  that  more  men  are  ruined  by  a  blind  perse 
verance  in  going  the  wrong  way,  than  from  any  other 
cause.  Were  we  infallible  in  judgment,  it  might  be  well 
enough  to  govern  ourselves  in  all  important  matters  on 
the  principle  you  indicate.  But,  as  we  are  not,  like  wise 
navigators,  we  should  daily  make  new  observations,  and 
daily  examine  our  charts.  The  smallest  deviation  from 
a  right  line  will  make  an  immense  error  in  the  course  of 
a  long  voyage." 

"Wise  business  men  are  in  little  danger  of  making 
errors,"  said  Markland,  confidently. 

"A  great  many  sad  mistakes  are  made  daily,"  re 
turned  Mr.  Brajnard. 

"Not  by  wise  men." 

"If  a  man's  projects  succeed,"  was  rejoined,  "we 
applaud  his  sound  business  judgment ;  if  they  fail,  we 
see  the  cause  of  failure  so  plainly,  that  we  are  astonished 
at  his  want  of  forethought  in  not  seeing  it  at  the  be 
ginning.  But,  sir,  there's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our 
ends,  rough  hew  them  as  we  will.  Success  or  failure,  I 
am  well  convinced,  do  not  always  depend  on  the  man 
himself." 

"  Is  there  no  virtue,  then,  in  human  prudence  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Markland. 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  how  far  we  may  depend 
on  human  prudence,"  replied  the  other;  "but  I  know 
this,  that  if  we  fail  to  use  it,  we  will  fail  in  most  of  our 
undertakings.  Human  prudence  must  be  exercised  in 
all  cases ;  but,  too  often,  we  let  our  confident  hopes  take 
the  place  of  prudence,  as  I  think  you  are  doing  now." 
"But  surely,  Mr.  Brainard,"  said  Markland,  in  an 


136  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

earnest,  appealing  way,  "you  do  not  intend  receding 
from  this  business?" 

"My  mind  is  fully  made  up,"  was  answered. 

"And  so  is  mine,"  firmly  replied  Markland. 

"To  do  what?" 

"  To  take  the  whole  interest  myself." 

"  What  ?" 

"To  invest  forty  thousand  dollars,  instead  of  the 
proposed  twenty,  at  once." 

"  You  show  strong  faith,  certainly." 

"  My  faith,  you  may  be  sure,  is  well  grounded.  Mr. 
Fenwick  has  already  put  in  that  sum,  and  he  is  not  the 
man  to  go  blindly  into  any  business.  Apart  from  my 
own  clear  intuitions,  founded  on  the  most  careful  investi 
gations,  I  would  almost  be  willing  to  take  risks  in  any 
schemes  that  Mr.  Fenwick  approved,  in  the  substantial 
way  of  investment." 

"A  very  different  man  am  I,"  said  Mr.  Brainard. 
"  Twenty  years  of  sharp  experience  are  sufficient  to 
make  me  chary  of  substituting  others'  business  judgment 
for  my  own." 

"Ah,  well!"  returned  Markland,  his  manner  showing 
him  to  be  disappointed  and  annoyed.  "  I  cannot  but 
regret  your  hasty  decision  in  this  matter.  So  far  as  it 
concerns  myself,  even  if  I  saw  cause  to  recede,  which  I 
do  not,  I  am  too  far  committed,  with  both  Fenwick  and 
Lyon,  to  hesitate." 

"  Every  man  must  decide  in  such  cases  for  himself," 
said  Brainard.  "  I  always  do.  If  you  are  fully  assured 
in  every  particular,  and  have  confidence  in  your  men, 
your  way  is  of  course  clear. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  t     137 

"It  is  clear,"  was  confidently  answered,  "  and  I  shall 
walk  in  it  with  full  assurance  of  a  successful  end." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IT  was  some  time  after  her  father  left  for  the  city, 
before  Fanny  came  down  from  her  room.  She  was  pale, 
and  looked  as  if  she  had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  Her 
mother's  concerned  inquiries  were  answered  evasively, 
and  it  was  very  apparent  that  she  wished  to  avoid  ques 
tion  and  observation. 

Aunt  Grace  again  sought,  in  her  obtrusive  way,  to 
penetrate  the  mystery  of  Fanny's  changed  exterior,  but 
was  no  more  successful  than  on  the  preceding  evening. 

"Don't  worry  her  with  so  many  questions,  sister," 
said  Mrs.  Markland,  aside,  to  Aunt  Grace ;  "  I  will  know 
all  in  good  time." 

"Your  good  time  may  prove  a  very  bad  time,"  was 
answered,  a  little  sharply. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Markland, 
turning  her  eyes  full  upon  the  face  of  her  companion. 

"  I  mean  that  in  any  matter  affecting  so  deeply  a  girl 
like  Fanny,  the  mother's  time  for  knowing  all  about  it  is 
now.  Something  is  wrong,  you  may  depend  upon  it." 

At  the  commencement  of  this  conversation,  Fanny 
retired  from  the  room. 

"  The  child's  mind  has  been  disturbed  by  the  unfortu- 

12* 


138  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

nate  letter  from  Mr.  Lyon.  The  something  wrong  goes 
not  beyond  this." 

"  Unfortunate !  You  may  well  say  unfortunate.  I 
don't  know  what  has  come  over  Edward.  He  isn't  the 
same  man  that  he  was,  before  that  foreign  adventurer 
darkened  our  sunny  home  with  his  presence.  Unfortu 
nate  !  It  is  worse  than  unfortunate !  Edward's  sending 
that  letter  at  all  was  more  a  crime  than  a  mistake.  But 
as  to  the  wrong  in  regard  to  Fanny,  I  am  not  so  sure 
that  it  only  consists  in  a  disturbance  of  her  mind." 

There  was  a  look  of  mystery,  blended  with  anxious 
concern,  in  the  countenance  of  Aunt  Grace,  that  caused 
Mrs.  Markland  to  say,  quickly — 

"  Speak  out  what  is  in  your  thoughts,  Grace.  Have 
no  concealments  with  me,  especially  on  a  subject  like 
this." 

"  I  may  be  over-suspicious — I  may  wrong  the  dear 
child— but " 

Aunt  Grace  looked  unusually  serious. 

"But  what?"  Mrs.  Markland  had  grown  instantly 
pale  at  the  strange  words  of  her  husband's  sister. 

"  John,  the  gardener,  says  that  he  saw  Mr.  Lyon  on 
the  day  after  Edward  went  to  New  York." 

"Where?" 

"Not  far  from  here." 

"  Deceived,  as  Edward  was.  John  saw  our  new  neigh 
bour,  Mr.  Willet." 

"  Maybe  so,  and  maybe  not ;  and  I  am  strongly  in 
clined  to  believe  in  the  maybe  not.  As  for  that  Lyon, 
I  have  no  faith  in  him,  and  never  had,  as  you  know,  from 
the  beginning.  And  I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  139 

he  were  prowling  about  here,  trying  to  get  stolen  inter 
views  with  Fanny." 

"Grace!  How  dare  you  suggest  such  a  thing?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Markland,  with  an  energy  and  indigna 
tion  almost  new  to  her  character. 

Grace  was  rather  startled  by  so  unexpected  a  response 
from  her  sister-in-law,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  looked 
abashed. 

"Better  be  scared  than  hurt,  you  know,  Agnes,"  she 
replied,  coolly,  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered  herself. 

"  Not  if  scared  by  mere  phantoms  of  our  own  diseased 
imaginations,"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  There  is  something  more  solid  than  a  phantom  in 
the  present  case,  I'm  afraid.  What  do  you  suppose 
takes  Fanny  away  so  often,  all  by  herself,  to  the  Foun 
tain  Grove  ?" 

"  Grace  Markland !  What  can  you  mean  by  such  a 
question  ?"  The  mother  of  Fanny  looked  frightened. 

"  I  put  the  question  to  you  for  answer,"  said  Grace, 
coolly.  "  The  time  was,  and  that  time  is  not  very 
distant,  when  Fanny  could  scarcely  be  induced  to  go 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  except  in  company. 
Now,  she  wanders  away  alone,  almost  daily ;  and  if  you 
observe  the  direction  she  takes,  you  will  find  that  it  is 
toward  Fountain  Grove.  And  John  says  that  it  was 
near  this  place  that  he  met  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  Mr.  Willet,  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  firmly. 

"None  are  so  blind  as  those  who  will  not  see,"  re 
torted  Aunt  Grace,  in  her  impulsive  way.  "  If  any  harm 
comes  to  the  child,  you  and  Edward  will  have  none 
but  yourselves  to  blame.  Forewarned,  forearmed,  is 


140  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

a  wise  saying,  by  which  you  seem  in  no  way  inclined  to 
profit." 

Even  while  this  conversation  was  in  progress,  the 
subject  of  it  had  taken  herself  away  to  the  sweet,  retired 
spot  where,  since  her  meeting  with  Mr.  Lyon,  she  had 
felt  herself  drawn  daily  with  an  almost  irresistible  in 
fluence.  As  she  passed  through  the  thick,  encircling 
grove  that  surrounded  the  open  space  where  the  beautiful 
summer-house  stood  and  the  silvery  waters  sported 
among  the  statues,  she  was  startled  by  a  rustling  noise, 
as  of  some  one  passing  near.  She  stopped  suddenly, 
her  heart  beating  with  a  rapid  motion,  and  listened  in 
tently.  Was  she  deceived,  or  did  her  eyes  really  get 
uncertain  glimpses  of  a  form  hurriedly  retiring  through 
the  trees  ?  For  nearly  a  minute  she  stood  almost  as  still 
as  one  of  the  marble  figures  that  surrounded  the  foun 
tain.  Then,  with  slow,  almost  stealthy  footsteps,  she 
moved  onward,  glancing,  as  she  did  so,  from  side  to  side, 
and  noting  every  object  in  the  range  of  vision  with  a 
sharp  scrutiny.  On  gaining  the  summer-house,  the  first 
object  that  met  her  eyes  was  a  folded  letter,  lying  upon 
the  marble  table.  To  spring  forward  and  seize  it  was 
the  work  of  an  instant.  It  bore  her  own  name,  and  in 
the  now  familiar  hand  of  Lee  Lyon  ! 

A  strong  agitation  seized  upon  the  frame  of  the  young 
girl,  as  she  caught  up  the  unexpected  letter.  It  was 
some  moments  before  her  trembling  fingers  could  break 
the  seal  and  unfold  the  missive.  Then  her  eyes  drank 
in,  eagerly,  its  contents : 

"MY  EVER  DEAR  FANNY: — Since  our  meeting  at 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  141 

the  fountain,  I  cannot  say  to  you  all  that  I  would  say  in 
any  letter  under  care  to  your  father,  and  so  I  entrust 
this  to  a  faithful  messenger,  who  will  see  that  it  reaches 
your  hands.  I  am  now  far  to  the  South  again,  in  prose 
cution  of  most  important  business,  the  safe  progress  of 
which  would  be  interrupted,  and  the  whole  large  result 
endangered,  were  your  father  to  know  of  my  visit  at 
Woodbine  Lodge  at  a  time  when  he  thought  me  hun 
dreds  of  miles  distant.  So,  for  his  sake,  as  well  as  my 
own,  be  discreet  for  a  brief  period.  I  will  not  long 
permit  this  burden  of  secrecy  to  lie  upon  your  dear 
young  heart — oh  no  !  I  could  not  be  so  unjust  to  you. 
Your  truest,  best,  wisest  counsellor  is  your  mother,  and 
she  should  know  all  that  is  in  your  heart.  Keep  your 
secret  only  for  a  little  while,  and  then  I  will  put  you  in 
full  liberty  to  speak  of  all  that  has  just  occurred.  None 
will  approve  your  discretion  more  than  your  parents,  I 
know,  when  all  the  grave  reasons  for  this  concealment 
are  disclosed.  Dear  Fanny !  how  ever-present  to  me 
you  are.  It  seems,  often,  as  if  you  were  moving  by  my 
side.  In  lonely  moments,  how  like  far  off,  sweet  music, 
comes  your  voice  stealing  into  my  heart.  Beloved  one ! — " 
A  sudden  sound  of  approaching  feet  caused  Fanny 
to  crumple  the  letter,  scarcely  half  read,  in  her  hand, 
and  thrust  it  into  her  bosom.  Turning  towards  the  point 
from  whence  the  noise  came,  she  perceived  the  form  of 
her  mother,  who  was  only  a  few  paces  distant.  Mrs. 
Markland  saw  the  letter  in  Fanny's  hand,  and  also  saw 
the  hasty  motion  of  concealment.  When  she  entered 
the  summer-house  where  her  daughter,  who  had  risen  up 
hurriedly,  stood  in  the  attitude  of  one  suddenly  alarmed, 


142  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

she  marked  with  deep  concern  the  agitated  play  of  her 
countenance,  and  the  half-guilty  aversion  of  her  eyes. 

"  My  dear  child  !"  she  said,  in  a  low,  serious  voice, 
as  she  laid  a  hand  upon  her,  "  what  am  I  to  understand 
by  the  singular  change  that  has  passed  over  you,  and 
particularly  by  the  strong  disturbance  of  this  moment  ? 
Why  are  you  here  alone  ?  And  why  are  you  so  startled 
at  your  mother's  appearance  ?" 

Fanny  only  bowed  her  face  upon  her  mother's  bosom, 
and  sobbed  violently. 

As  the  wildness  of  her  emotion  subsided,  Mrs.  Mark- 
land  said : — 

"  Speak  freely  to  your  best  friend,  my  darling  child ! 
Hide  nothing  from  one  who  loves  you  better  than  any 
human  heart  can  love  you." 

But  Fanny  answered  not,  except  by  a  fresh  gush  of 
tears. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  confide  to  your  mother?"  in 
quired  Mrs.  Markland  in  as  calm  a  voice  as  she  could 
assume,  after  waiting  long  enough  for  the  heart  of  her 
daughter  to  beat  with  a  more  even  stroke. 

"  Nothing,"  was  answered  in  a  voice  as  calm  as  that 
in  which  the  interrogation  was  asked. 

"  Nothing,  Fanny  ?  Oh,  my  child !  Do  not  deceive 
your  mother !" 

Fanny  drew  her  slight  form  up  into  something  of  a 
proud  attitude,  and  stood  for  an  instant  looking  at  her 
mother  almost  defiantly.  But  this  was  only  for  an  in 
stant.  For  scarcely  was  the  position  assumed,  ere  she 
had  flung  herself  forward,  again  sobbing  violently,  into 
her  arms. 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  143 

But,  for  all  this  breaking  down  of  her  feelings,  Fan 
ny's  lips  remained  sealed.  She  was  not  yet  prepared 
to  give  up  her  lover's  secret — and  did  not  do  so. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ALL  doubt  in  regard  to  the  presence  of  Mr.  Lyon  in 
the  neighborhood,  as  affirmed  by  Mr.  Lamar  and  others, 
had,  as  we  have  seen,  passed  from  the  mind  of  Mark- 
land.  He  was  entirely  satisfied  that  the  individual  seen 
by  these  men  was  Mr.  Willet.  But  since  the  refusal  of 
Brainard,  regarded  as  one  of  the  shrewdest  men  in  the 
city,  to  enter  into  a  speculation  to  him  so  full  of  pro 
mise,  he  did  not  feel  altogether  easy  in  mind.  He  had 
spoken  more  from  impulse  than  sound  judgment,  when 
he  declared  it  to  be  his  purpose  to  risk  forty  thousand 
dollars  in  the  scheme,  instead  of  twenty  thousand.  A 
cooler  state  left  room  for  doubts.  What  did  he  really 
know  of  Mr.  Lyon,  on  whose  discretion,  as  an  agent, 
so  much  would  depend?  The  question  intruded  itself, 
like  an  unwelcome  guest ;  and  his  effort  to  answer  it  to 
his  own  satisfaction  was  in  vain.  Had  he  been  in  pos 
session  of  his  daughter's  secret,  all  would  have  been 
plain  before  him.  Not  for  an  instant  would  he  have 
hesitated  about  keeping  faith  with  a  man  who  could  so 
deceive  him. 

"I  must  see  Mr.  Fenwick  again,"  he  said,  in  his 
perplexity,  after  leaving  the  office  of  Mr.  Brainard. 


144  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Forty  thousand  dollars  is  a  large  sum  to  invest ;  and 
I  shall  have  to  sell  some  of  my  best  property  to  raise  it 
— property  yearly  increasing  in  value.  Twenty  thousand 
I  could  have  managed  by  parting  with  stocks.  What 
folly  in  Brainard !  I'm  sadly  out  with  him.  Yes,  I 
must  see  Mr.  Fenwick  immediately." 

In  the  next  train  that  left  for  New  York,  Mr.  Mark- 
land  was  a  passenger.  A  hurried  note,  received  by  his 
family  that  evening,  announced  the  fact  of  his  journey, 
and  threw  a  deeper  shadow  on  the  heart  of  his  troubled 
"wife. 

Vainly  had  Mrs.  Markland  striven  to  gain  the  unre 
served  confidence  of  Fanny.  The  daughter's  lips  were 
sealed.  Pressing  importunity  plainly  wrought  something 
akin  to  estrangement ;  and  so,  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
and  anguish  in  her  heart,  the  mother  turned  from  her 
pale-faced  child,  and  left  her  alone.  An  hour  after 
being  surprised  by  her  mother  at  the  Fountain  Grove, 
Fanny  glided  into  her  own  room,  and  turned  the  key. 
The  letter  of  Mr.  Lyon  was  still  in  her  bosom,  and  now, 
with  eager  hands,  she  drew  it  forth,  and  read  to  the  end — 

"  Beloved  one  !     How  often  have  I  blessed  the 

kind  Providence  that  led  me  into  your  presence.  How 
strange  are  these  things !  For  years  I  have  moved 
amid  a  blaze  of  beauty,  and  coldly  turned  away  from  a 
thousand  glittering  attractions.  But,  when  my  eyes 
first  saw  you,  there  was  a  pause  in  my  heart's  pulsations. 
I  felt  that  my  soul's  companion  was  discovered  to  me ; 
that,  henceforth,  my  life  and  yours  were  to  blend.  Ah, 
dear  one !  wonder  not  that,  from  a  hasty  impulse,  I 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  145 

decided  to  return  and  see  your  father.  I  fear,  now,  that 
the  cause  most  strongly  influencing  me  was  the  desire 
to  look  upon  your  face  and  feel  the  thrilling  touch  of 
your  hand  once  more.  Perhaps  it  is  well  he  was  absent, 
for  I  am  not  so  sure  that  his  cooler  judgment  would 
have  seen  sufficient  cause  for  the  act.  All  is  going  on 
now  just  as  he,  and  I,  and  all  concerned,  could  wish  ;  and 
not  for  the  world  would  I  have  him  know,  at  present, 
our  secret.  Stolen  waters,  they  say,  are  sweet.  I  know 
not.  But  that  brief,  stolen  interview  at  the  fountain, 
was  full  of  sweetness  to  me.  You  looked  the  very 
Naiad  of  the  place — pure,  spiritual,  the  embodiment  of 
all  things  lovely.  Forgive  this  warmth  of  feeling.  I 
would  not  wound  the  instinctive  delicacy  of  a  heart  like 
yours.  Only  believe  me  sincere.  "Will  you  not  write  to 
me?  Direct  your  letters,  under  cover,  to  D.  C.  L., 
Baltimore  P.  0.,  and  they  will  be  immediately  forwarded. 
I  will  write  you  weekly.  The  same  hand  that  conveys 
this,  will  see  that  my  letters  reach  you.  Farewell,  be 
loved  one !  LEE  LYON." 

Five  times  did  Fanny  attempt  to  answer  this,  and  as 
often  were  her  letters  destroyed  by  her  own  hands. 
Her  sixth,  if  not  more  to  her  own  satisfaction,  she 
sealed,  and  subscribed  as  directed.  It  read  thus : 

"  MR.  LEE  LYON  : — MY  DEAR  SIR — Your  unexpected 
visit,  and  equally  unexpected  letter,  have  bewildered 
and  distressed  me.  You  enjoin  a  continued  silence  in 
regard  to  your  return  from  the  South.  Oh,  sir !  re 
move  that  injunction  as  quickly  as  possible ;  for  every 
K  13 


146  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

hour  that  it  remains,  increases  my  unhappiness.  You 
have  separated  between  me  and  my  good  mother, — you 
are  holding  me  back  from  throwing  myself  on  her  bosom, 
and  letting  her  see  every  thought  of  my  soul.  I  cannot 
very  long  endure  the  present.  Why  not  at  once  wTrite 
to  my  father,  and  explain  all  to  him  ?  He  must  know 
that  you  came  back,  and  the  sooner,  it  seems  to  me,  will 
be  the  better.  If  I  do  not  betray  the  fact,  waking,  I 
shall  surely  do  it  in  my  sleep ;  for  I  think  of  it  all  the 
time.  Mother  surprised  me  while  reading  your  letter. 
I  am  afraid  she  saw  it  in  my  hand.  She  importuned 
me  to  give  her  my  full  confidence ;  and  to  refuse  was 
one  of  the  hardest  trials  of  my  life.  I  feel  that  I  am 
changing  under  this  new,  painful  experience.  The 
ordeal  is  too  fiery.  If  it  continues  much  longer,  I  shall 
cease  to  be  what  I  was  when  you  were  here ;  and  you 
will  find  me,  on  your  return,  so  changed  as  to  be  no 
longer  worthy  of  your  love.  Oh,  sir !  pity  the  child 
you  have  awakened  from  a  peaceful,  happy  dream,  into 
a  real  life  of  mingled  pain  and  joy.  From  the  cup  you 
have  placed  to  my  lips,  I  drink  with  an  eager  thirst. 
The  draught  is  delicious  to  the  taste,  but  it  intoxicates — 
nay,  maddens  me ! 

"  Write  back  to  me  at  once,  dear  Mr.  Lyon !  I  shall 
count  the  minutes  as  hours,  until  your  letter  comes.  Let 
the  first  words  be — '  Tell  all  to  your  mother.'  If  you 
cannot  write  this,  we  must  be  as  strangers,  for  I  will  not 
bind  myself  to  a  man  who  would  make  me  untrue  to  my 
parents.  You  say  that  you  love  me.  Love  seeks  an 
other's  happiness.  If  you  really  love  me,  seek  my 
happiness.  FANNY." 


THE  GOOD   TIME   COMING.  147 

Many  times  did  Fanny  read  over  this  letter  before 
resolving  to  send  it.  Far,  very  far,  was  it  from  satisfying 
her.  She  feared  that  it  was  too  cold — too  repellant — 
too  imperative.  But  it  gave  the  true  alternative.  She 
was  not  yet  ready  to  abandon  father  and  mother  for  one 
who  had  thrown  a  spell  over  her  heart  almost  as  strong 
as  the  enchantment  of  a  sorcerer ;  and  she  wished  him 
distinctly  to  understand  this. 

Mr.  Lyon  was  in  a  southern  city  when  this  letter 
came  into  his  hands.  He  was  sitting  at  a  table  covered 
with  various  documents,  to  the  contents  of  which  he  had 
been  giving  a  long  and  earnest  attention,  when  a  servant 
brought  in  a  number  of  letters  from  the  post-office.  He 
selected  from  the  package  one  post-marked  Baltimore, 
and  broke  the  seal  in  a  hurried  and  rather  nervous  man 
ner.  As  he  opened  it,  an  enclosure  fell  upon  the  table. 
It  was  superscribed  with  his  name,  in  the  delicate  hand 
of  a  woman.  This  was  Fanny's  letter. 

A  careful  observer  would  have  seen  more  of  selfish 
triumph  in  the  gleam  that  shot  across  his  face,  than  true 
love's  warm  delight.  The  glow  faded  into  a  look  of 
anxiety  as  he  commenced  unfolding  the  letter,  which 
he  read  with  compressed  lips.  A  long  breath,  as  if  a  state 
of  suspense  were  relieved,  followed  the  perusal.  Then 
he  sat,  for  some  moments,  very  still,  and  lost  in  thought. 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  he  murmured  at  length, 
laying  the  letter  of  Fanny  aside,  and  taking  up  sundry 
other  letters  which  had  come  by  the  same  mail.  For 
more  than  an  hour  these  engrossed  his  attention.  Two 
of  them,  one  from  Mr.  Markland,  were  answered  during 
the  time. 


148  THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

"Now,  sweetheart,"  he  said,  almost  lightly,  as  he 
took  Fanny's  letter  from  the  table.  Every  word  was 
read  over  again,  his  brows  gradually  contracting  as  he 
proceeded. 

"  There  is  some  spirit  about  the  girl ;  more  than  I  had 
thought.  My  going  back  was  a  foolish  blunder.  But 
the  best  will  have  to  be  made  of  it.  Not  a  whisper  must 
come  to  Mr.  Ma-rkland.  That  is  a  settled  point.  But 
how  is  the  girl  to  be  managed?" 

Lyon  mused  for  a  long  time. 

"  Dear  child  !"  He  now  spoke  with  a  tender  expres 
sion.  I  have  laid  too  heavy  a  weight  on  your  young 
heart,  and  I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  remove  it ;  but 
it  is  not." 

He  took  a  pen,  as  he  said  this,  and  commenced  writing 
an  answer  to  Fanny's  letter : — 

"  DEAREST  ONE  : — Tell  all  to  your  mother ;  but,  in 
doing  so,  let  it  be  clearly  in  your  mind  that  an  eternal 
separation  between  us  must  follow  as  a  consequence.  I 
do  not  say  this  as  a  threat — ah,  no !  Nor  are  you  to 
understand  that  I  will  be  offended.  No — no — no — 
nothing  of  this.  I  only  speak  of  what  must  come  as  the 
sure  result.  The  moment  your  father  learns  that  I  was 
at  Woodbine  Lodge,  and  had  an  interview  with  his 
daughter,  at  a  time  when  he  thought  me  far  distant,  our 
business  and  personal  relations  must  cease.  He  will 
misjudge  me  from  evidence  to  his  mind  powerfully  con 
clusive  ;  and  I  shall  be  unable  to  disabuse  him  of  error, 
because  appearances  are  against  me.  But  I  put  you  in 
entire  freedom.  Go  to  your  mother — confide  to  hei 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  149 

every  thing ;  and,  if  it  be  possible,  get  back  the  peace 
of  which  my  coming  unhappily  robbed  you.  Think  not 
of  any  consequences  to  me — fatal  though  they  should 
prove.  The  wide  world  is  before  me  still. 

"  And  now,  dear  Fanny !  If  our  ways  in  life  must 
part,  let  us  hold  each  other  at  least  in  kind  remembrance. 
It  will  ever  grieve  me  to  think  that  our  meeting  occa 
sioned  a  ripple  to  disturb  the  tranquil  surface  of  your 
feelings.  I  could  not  help  loving  you — and  for  that  I 
am  not  responsible.  Alas !  that,  in  loving,  I  should 
bring  pain  to  the  heart  of  the  beloved  one. 

"  But  why  say  more  ?  Why  trouble  your  spirit  by 
revealing  the  disturbance  of  mine  ?  Heaven  bless  you 
and  keep  you,  Fanny ;  and  may  your  sky  be  ever  bathed 
in  sunshine  !  I  leave  my  destiny  in  your  hands,  and 
pray  for  strength  to  bear  the  worst. 

Adieu.  L.  L." 

There  was  a  flitting  smile  on  the  lips  of  the  young 
Englishman,  as  he  folded  and  sealed  this  letter,  and  a 
look  of  assurance  on  his  face,  that  little  accorded  with 
the  words  he  had  just  written.  Again  he  took  up  his 
pen  and  wrote — 

"MY  DEAR  D.  C.  L. :—  Faithful  as  ever  you  have 
proved  in  this  affair,  which  is  growing  rather  too  compli 
cated,  and  beginning  to  involve  too  many  interests. 
Miss  Markland  is  fretting  sadly  under  the  injunction  of 
secresy,  and  says  that  I  must  release  her  from  the 
obligation  not  to  mention  my  hasty  return  from  the 
South.  And  so  I  have  written  to  her,  that  she  may 

13* 


150  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

divulge  the  fact  to  her  mother.  You  start,  and  I  hear 
you  say — '  Is  the  man  mad  ?'  No,  not  mad,  my  friend; 
or,  if  mad,  with  a  method  in  his  madness.  Fanny  will 
not  tell  her  mother.  Trust  me  for  that.  The  conse 
quences  I  have  clearly  set  forth — probable  ruin  to  my 
prospects,  and  an  eternal  separation  between  us.  Do 
you  think  she  will  choose  this  alternative?  Not  she. 
'  Imprudent  man  !  To  risk  so  much  for  a  pretty  face  !' 
I  hear  you  exclaim.  Not  all  for  a  pretty  face,  my  grave 
friend.  The  alliance,  if  it  can  be  made,  is  a  good  one. 
Markland,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  is  as  rich  as  a  Jew ;  he 
has  a  bold,  suggestive  mind,  a  large  share  of  enthusiasm, 
and  is,  take  him  all  in  all,  just  the  man  we  want  actively 
interested  in  our  scheme.  Brainard,  he  writes  me,  has 
backed  out.  I  don't  like  that ;  and  I  like  still  less  the 
reason  assigned  for  his  doing  so.  t  A  foolish  report  that 
you  were  seen  in  the  city  some  days  after  your  departure 
for  the  South,  has  disturbed  his  confidence,  and  he  posi 
tively  refuses  to  be  a  partner  in  the  arrangement.'  That 
looks  bad  ;  doesn't  it  ?  Markland  seems  not  to  have 
the  slightest  suspicion,  and  says  that  he  will  take  the 
whole  forty  thousand  interest  himself,  if  necessary.  He 
was  going,  immediately,  to  New  York,  to  consult  with 
Mr.  Fenwick.  A  good  move.  Fenwick  understands 
himself  thoroughly,  and  will  manage  our  gentleman. 

"  Get  the  enclosed  safely  into  the  hands  of  Fanny, 
and  with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  I  am  growing 
rather  nervous  about  the  matter.  Be  very  discreet. 
The  slightest  error  might  ruin  all.  If  possible,  manage 
to  come  in  contact  with  Brainard,  and  hear  how  he  talks 
of  me,  and  of  our  enterprise.  You  will  know  how  to 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  151 

neutralize  any  gratuitous  assertions  he  may  feel  inclined 
to  make.  Also  get,  by  some  means,  access  to  Mr. 
Markland.  I  want  your  close  observation  in  this  quarter. 
Write  me,  promptly  and  fully,  and,  for  the  present,  direct 
to  me  here.  I  shall  proceed  no  farther  for  the  present. 
As  ever,  yours,  L.  L." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  visit  to  New  York,  and  interview  with  Mr.  Fen- 
wick,  fully  assured  Mr.  Markland,  and  he  entered  into 
a  formal  agreement  to  invest  the  sum  of  forty  thousand 
dollars  in  the  proposed  scheme :  ten  thousand  dollars  to 
be  paid  down  at  once,  and  the  balance  at  short  dates. 
He  remained  away  two  days,  and  then  returned  to  make 
immediate  arrangements  for  producing  the  money.  The 
ten  thousand  dollars  were  raised  by  the  sale  of  State  six 
per  cent,  stocks,  a  transaction  that  at  once  reduced  his 
annual  income  about  six  hundred  dollars.  The  sum  was 
transmitted  to  New  York. 

"Have  you  reconsidered  that  matter?"  inquired 
Markland,  a  few  days  after  his  return,  on  meeting  with 
Mr.  Brainard. 

"No,  but  I  hope  you  have,"  was  answered  in  a  serious 
tone. 

"  I  have  been  to  New  York  since  I  saw  you." 

"Ah!  and  seen  Mr.  Fenwick  again?" 

"Yes." 


152  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Did  you  mention  the  report  of  Lyon's  return?" 

"I  did." 

"  How  did  it  strike  him  ?" 

"As  preposterous,  of  course." 

"He  did  not  credit  the  story?" 

"Not  he." 

"  Well,  I  hope,  for  your  sake,  that  all  will  come  out 
right." 

"Never  fear." 

"  By-the-way,"  said  Mr.  Brainard,  "  what  do  you  really 
know  about  Fenwick  ?  You  appear  to  have  the  highest 
confidence  in  his  judgment.  Does  this  come  from  a  per 
sonal  knowledge  of  the  man,  or  are  you  governed  in  your 
estimate  by  common  report?" 

"  He  is  a  man  of  the  first  standing  in  New  York.  No 
name,  in  money  circles,  bears  a  higher  reputation." 

Brainard  slightly  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  common  estimate  of  a  man,  in  any  community, 
is  apt  to  be  very  near  the  truth,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Generally  speaking,  this  is  so,"  was  replied.  "But 
every  now  and  then  the  public  mind  is  startled  by  excep 
tions  to  the  rule — and  these  exceptions  have  been  rather 
frequent  of  late  years.  As  for  Fenwick,  he  stands  fair 
enough,  in  a  general  way.  If  he  were  to  send  me  an  order 
for  five  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  goods,  I  would  sell  him, 
were  I  a  merchant,  without  hesitation.  But  to  embark 
with  him  in  a  scheme  of  so  much  magnitude  is  another 
thing  altogether,  and  I  wonder  at  myself,  now,  that  I 
was  induced  to  consider  the  matter  at  all.  Since  my 
withdrawal,  and  cooler  thought  on  the  subject,  I  con 
gratulate  myself,  daily,  on  the  escape  I  have  made." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  153 

"  Escape  !  From  what !"  Mr.  Markland  looked  sur 
prised. 

"  From  loss  ;  it  may  be,  ruin." 

"  You  would  hardly  call  the  loss  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  ruin." 

"  Do  you  expect  to  get  off  with  an  investment  of  only 
twenty  thousand  dollars  ?"  asked  Mr.  Brainard. 

"No  ;  for  I  have  agreed  to  put  in  forty  thousand." 

Brainard  shook  his  head  ominously,  and  looked  very 
grave. 

"  I  knew  of  no  other  man  in  the  city  with  whom  I  cared 
to  be  associated;  and  so,  after  you  declined,  took  the 
whole  amount  that  was  to  be  raised  here,  myself." 

"A  hasty  and  unwise  act,  believe  me,  Mr.  Markland," 
said  the  other.  "  How  soon  do  you  expect  returns  from 
this  investment  ?" 

"Not  for  a  year,  at  least." 

"  Say  not  for  two  years." 

«  Well— admit  it.     What  then  ?" 

"Your  annual  income  is  at  once  diminished  in  the 
sum  of  about  twenty-five  hundred  dollars,  the  interest  on 
these  forty  thousand  dollars.  So,  at  the  end  of  two 
years,  you  are  the  loser  of  five  thousand  dollars  by  your 
operation." 

"It  would  be,  if  the  new  business  paid  nothing. 
But,  when  it  begins  to  pay,  it  will  be  at  the  rate  of  ono 
or  two  hundred  per  cent,  on  the  amounts  paid  in." 

"May  be  so." 

"Oh!  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  The  whole  scheme  has  a  fair  front,  I  will  admit," 
answered  Brainard.  "But  I  have  seen  so  many  days 


154  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

that  rose  in  sunshine  go  down  in  storm,  that  I  have 
ceased  to  be  over  confident.  If  forty  thousand  were  the 
whole  of  your  investment,  you  might,  for  so  large  a 
promised  return,  be  justified  in  taking  the  risk." 

"  Mr.  Fenwick  thinks  nothing  further  will  be  required," 
said  Markland. 

"But  don't  you  remember  the  letter,  in  which  he 
stated,  distinctly,  that  several  assessments  would,  in  all 
probability,  be  made,  pro  rata,  on  each  partner?" 

"  Yes ;  and  I  called  Mr.  Fenwick's  attention  to  that 
statement ;  for  I  did  not  care  to  go  beyond  forty  thou 
sand." 

"What  answer  did  he  make  ?" 

"Later  intelligence  had  exhibited  affairs  in  such  a 
state  of  progress,  that  it  was  now  certain  no  further  ad 
vance  of  capital  would  be  required." 
•    "  I  hope  not,  for  your  sake,"  returned  Brainard. 

"  I  am  sure  not,"  said  Markland,  confidently.  A  third 
party  here  interrupted  the  conversation,  and  the  two  men 
separated. 

As  might  be  supposed,  this  interview  did  not  leave  the 
most  agreeable  impression  on  the  feelings  of  Markland. 
The  fact  that  in  selling  stocks  and  other  property  to  the 
amount  of  forty  thousand  dollars,  and  locking  up  that 
large  sum  in  an  unproductive  investment,  he  would 
diminish  his  yearly  income  over  twenty-five  hundred  dol 
lars,  did  not  present  the  most  agreeable  view  of  the  case. 
He  had  not  thought  of  this,  distinctly,  before.  A  little 
sobered  in  mind,  he  returned  homeward  during  the  after 
noon.  Ten  thousand  dollars  had  gone  forward  to  New 
York ;  and  in  the  course  of  next  week  he  must  produce 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  155 

a  sum  of  equal  magnitude.  To  do  this,  would  require 
the  sale  of  a  piece  of  real  estate  that  had,  in  five  years, 
been  doubled  in  value,  and  which  promised  to  be  worth 
still  more.  He  felt  a  particular  reluctance  to  selling 
this  property ;  and  the  necessity  for  doing  so  worried 
his  mind  considerably.  "  Better  let  well  enough  alone." 
"  A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush."  One  after 
another,  these  trite  little  sayings  would  come  up  in  his 
thoughts,  unbidden,  as  if  to  add  to  his  mental  dis 
quietude. 

In  spite  of  his  efforts  to  thrust  them  aside,  and  to  get 
back  his  strong  confidence  in  the  new  business,  Mr. 
Markland's  feelings  steadily  declined  towards  a  state  of 
unpleasant  doubt.  Reason  as  he  would  on  the  subject, 
he  could  not  overcome  the  depression  from  which  he 
suffered. 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  that  I  was  tempted  to  embark  in 
this  business,"  he  at  length  said  to  himself,  the  admis 
sion  being  extorted  by  the  pressure  on  his  feelings.  "  If 
I  could,  with  honour  and  safety,  withdraw,  I  believe  I 
would  be  tempted  to  do  so.  But  that  is  really  not  to  be 
thought  of  now.  My  hands  have  grasped  the  plough, 
and  there  must  be  no  wavering  or  looking  back.  This 
is  all  an  unworthy  weakness." 

Mr.  Markland  had  gained  the  entrance  to  Woodbine 
Lodge,  but  he  was  in  no  state  of  mind  to  join  his  family. 
So  he  alighted  and  sent  his  carriage  forward,  intending 
to  linger  on  his  way  to  the  house,  in  order  to  regain  his 
lost  equilibrium.  He  had  been  walking  alone  for  only  a 
few  minutes,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  when  a 
crackling  noise  among  the  underwood  caused  him  to  look 


156  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

up,  and  turn  himself  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
sound  came.  In  doing  so,  he  caught  sight  of  the  figure 
of  a  man  retiring  through  the  trees,  and  evidently,  from 
his  movements,  anxious  to  avoid  observation.  Mr. 
Markland  stood  still  and  gazed  after  him  until  his  figure 
passed  from  sight.  The  impression  this  incident  made 
upon  him  was  unpleasant.  The  person  of  the  stranger 
was  so  much  hidden  by  trees,  that  he  could  make  out  no 
resemblance  whatever. 

It  was  near  that  part  of  Mr.  Markland's  grounds 
known  as  the  Fountain  Grove,  where  this  occurred,  and 
the  man,  to  all  appearance,  had  been  there.  The  im 
pulse  for  him  to  turn  aside  was,  therefore,  but  natural, 
and  he  did  so.  Passing  through  a  style,  and  ascending 
by  a  few  steps  to  the  level  of  the  ornamental  grounds 
surrounding  the  grove  and  fountain,  the  first  object  that 
he  saw  was  his  daughter  Fanny,  moving  hastily  in  the 
direction  of  the  summer-house  which  has  been  described. 
She  was  only  a  short  distance  in  advance.  Mr.  Markland 
quickened  his  steps,  as  a  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness 
came  over  him.  The  coincidence  of  the  stranger  and 
his  daughter's  presence  produced  a  most  unpleasant 
impression. 

"Fanny!"  he  called. 

That  his  daughter  heard  him,  he  knew  by  the  start 
she  gave.  But  instead  of  looking  around,  she  sprang 
forward,  and  hastily  entered  the  summer-house.  For  a 
moment  or  two  she  was  hidden  from  his  view,  and  in  that 
short  period  she  had  snatched  a  letter  from  the  table, 
and  concealed  it  in  her  bosom.  Not  sufficiently  schooled 
in  the  art  of  self-control  was  Fanny  to  meet  her  father 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  157 

•with  a  calm  face.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  her 
chest  rose  and  fell  in  hurried  respiration,  as  Mr.  Mark- 
land  entered  the  summer-house,  where  she  had  seated 
herself. 

"You  are  frightened,  my  child,"  said  he,  fixing  his 
eyes  with  a  look  of  inquiry  on  her  face.  "  Didn't  you 
see  me,  as  I  turned  in  from  the  carriage-way?"  he 
added. 

"No,  sir,"  was  falteringly  answered.  "I  did  not 
know  that  you  had  returned  from  the  city  until  I  heard 
your  voice.  It  came  so  unexpectedly  that  I  was 
startled." 

Fanny,  as  she  said  this,  did  not  meet  her  father's  gaze, 
but  let  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  ground. 

"  Are  you  going  to  remain  here  ?"  asked  Mr.  Mark- 
land.  * 

"I  came  to  spend  a  little  while  alone  in  this  sweet 
place,  but  I  will  go  back  to  the  house  if  you  wish  it," 
she  replied. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  do  so.  I  saw  a  strange 
man  between  this  and  the  main  road,  and  he  seemed  as  if 
he  desired  to  avoid  observation." 

Fanny  started,  and  looked  up,  with  an  expression  of 
fear,  into  her  father's  face.  The  origin  of  that  look 
Mr.  Markland  did  not  rightly  conjecture.  She  arose  at 
once,  and  said — 

"  Let  us  go  home." 

But  few  words  passed  between  father  and  daughter  on 
the  way,  and  their  brief  intercourse  was  marked  by  a 
singular  embarrassment  on  both  sides. 

How  little  suspicion  of  the  real  truth  was  in  the  mind 
14 


158  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

of  Mr.  Markland  !  Nothing  was  farther  from  his  thoughts 
than  the  idea  that  Fanny  had  just  received  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Lyon,  and  that  the  man  he  had  seen  was  the  mes 
senger  by  whom  the  missive  had  been  conveyed  to  the 
summer-house.  A  minute  earlier,  and  that  letter  would 
have  come  into  his  hands.  How  instantly  would  a 
knowledge  of  its  contents  have  affected  all  the  pur 
poses  that  were  now  leading  him  on  with  almost  the 
blindness  of  infatuation.  The  man  he  was  trusting  so 
implicitly  would  have  instantly  stood  revealed  as  a 
scheming,  unprincipled  adventurer.  In  such  estimation, 
at  least,  he  must  have  been  held  by  Mr.  Markland, 
and  his  future  actions  would  have  been  governed  by  that 
estimate. 

The  answer  to  Fanny's  earnest,  almost  peremptory 
demand,  to  be  released  from  the  injunction  not  to  tell  her 
parents  of  Mr.  Lyon's  return,  was  in  her  possession,  and 
the  instant  she  could  get  away  to  her  own  room,  she  tore 
the  letter  open.  The  reader  already  knows  its  contents. 
The  effect  upon  her  was  paralizing.  He  had  said  that  she 
was  in  freedom  to  speak,  but  the  consequences  portrayed 
were  too  fearful  to  contemplate.  In  freedom  ?  No !  In 
stead  of  loosing  the  cords  with  which  he  had  bound  her 
spirit,  he  had  only  drawn  them  more  tightly.  She  was 
in  freedom  to  speak,  but  the  very  first  word  she  uttered 
would  sound  the  knell  of  her  young  heart's  fondest 
hopes.  How,  then,  could  she  speak  that  word  ?  Lyon 
had  not  miscalculated  the  effect  of  his  letter  on  the  in 
experienced,  fond  young  girl,  around  whose  innocent 
heart  he  had  woven  a  spell  of  enchantment.  Most 
adroitly  had  he  seemed  to  leave  her  free  to  act  from  her 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  159 

own  desires,  while  he  had  made  that  action  next  to 
impossible. 

How  rapidly,  sometimes,  does  the  young  mind  gain 
premature  strength  when  subjected  to  strong  trial. 
Little  beyond  an  artless  child  was  Fanny  Markland 
when  she  first  met  the  fascinating  young  stranger ;  and 
now  she  was  fast  growing  into  a  deep-feeling,  strong- 
thinking  woman.  Hitherto  she  had  leaned  with  tender 
confidence  on  her  parents,  and  walked  the  paths  lovingly 
where  they  led  the  way.  Now  she  was  moving,  with 
unaided  footsteps,  along  a  new  and  rugged  road,  that 
led  she  knew  not  whither ;  for  clouds  and  darkness  were 
in  the  forward  distance.  At  every  step,  she  found 
a  new  strength  and  a  new  power  of  endurance  growing 
up  in  her  young  spirit.  Thought,  too,  was  becoming 
clearer  and  stronger.  The  mature  woman  had  suddenly 
taken  the  place  of  the  shrinking  girl. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HALF  the  night,  following  the  receipt  of  Mr.  Lyon's 
letter,  was  spent  in  writing  an  .answer.  Imploringly 
she  besought  him  to  release  her,  truly,  from  the  obliga 
tion  to  secrecy  with  which  he  had  bound  her.  Most 
touchingly  did  she  picture  her  state  of  mind,  and  the 
change  wrought  by  it  upon  her  mother.  "  I  cannot 
bear  this  much  longer,"  she  said.  "  I  am  too  weak  for 
the  burden  you  have  laid  upon  me.  It  must  be  taken 


160  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

away  soon,  or  I  will  sink  under  the  weight.  Oh,  sir  !  if, 
as  you  say,  you  love  me,  prove  that  love  by  restoring 
me  to  my  parents.  Now,  though  present  with  them  in 
body,  I  am  removed  from  them  in  spirit.  My  mother's 
voice  has  a  strange  sound  in  my  ears ;  and  when  she 
gazes  sadly  into  my  face  I  can  hardly  believe  that  it  is 
my  mother  who  is  looking  upon  me.  If  she  touches 
me,  I  start  as  if  guilty  of  a  crime.  Oh,  sir !  to  die 
would  be  easy  for  me  now.  What  a  sweet  relief  utter 
forgetfulness  would  be." 

When  Fanny  awoke  on  the  next  morning,  she  found 
her  mother  standing  beside  her  bed,  and  gazing  down 
upon  her  face  with  a  tender,  anxious  look.  Sleep  had 
cleared  the  daughter's  thoughts  and  tranquilized  her 
feelings.  As  her  mother  bent  over  and  kissed  her,  she 
threw  her  arms  around  her  neck  and  clung  to  her 
tightly. 

"  My  dear  child !"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  in  a  loving 
voice. 

"  Dear,  dear  mother !"  was  answered,  with  a  gush  of 
feeling. 

"  Something  is  troubling  you,  Fanny.  You  are  greatly 
changed.  "  Will  you  not  open  your  heart  to  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother !"     She  sobbed  out  the  words. 

"  Am  I  not  your  truest  friend  ?"  said  Mrs.  Marklan 
speaking  calmly,  but  very  tenderly. 

Fanny  did  not  reply. 

"  Have  I  ever  proved  myself  unworthy  of  your  con 
fidence?"  She  spoke  as  if  from  wounded  feeling. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  dearest  mother !"    exclaimed   Fanny 
"  How  can  you  ask  me  such  a  question?" 


- 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  161 

"  You  have  withdrawn  your  confidence,"  was  almost 
coldly  said. 

"  Oh,  mother !"  And  Fanny  drew  her  arms  more 
tightly  about  her  mother's  neck,  kissing  her  cheek 
passionately  as  she  did  so. 

A  little  while  Mrs.  Markland  waited,  until  her  daugh 
ter's  mind  grew  calmer ;  then  she  said — 

"  You  are  concealing  from  me  something  that  troubles 
you.  Whatever  troubles  you  is  of  sufficient  importance 
to  be  intrusted  to  your  mother.  I  am  older,  have  had 
more  experience  than  you,  and  am  your  best  friend.  Not 
to  confide  in  me  is  unjust  to  yourself,  for,  in  my  counsels, 
more  than  in  those  of  your  own  heart,  is  there  safety." 

Mrs.  Markland  paused,  and  waited  for  some  time,  but 
there  was  no  response  from  Fanny.  She  then  said — 

"You  have  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Lyon." 

Fanny  started  as  if  a  sudden  blow  had  aroused  her. 

"And  concealed  the  fact  from  your  mother." 

No  answer ;  only  bitter  weeping. 

"May  I  see  that  letter?"  asked  the  mother,  after  a 
short  pause.  For  nearly  a  minute  she  waited  for  a 
reply.  But  there  was  not  a  word  from  Fanny,  who  now 
lay  as  still  as  death.  Slowly  Mrs.  Markland  disengaged 
her  arm  from  her  daughter's  neck,  and  raised  herself 
erect.  For  the  space  of  two  or  three  minutes  she  sat 
on  the  bedside.  All  this  time  there  was  not  the  slightest 
movement  on  the  part  of  Fanny.  Then  she  arose  and 
moved  slowly  across  the  room.  Her  hand  was  on  the 
door,  and  the  sound  of  the  latch  broke  the  silence  of 
the  room.  At  this  instant  the  unhappy  girl  started  up, 

and  cried,  in  tones  of  anguish — 
L  14* 


162  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Oh,  my  mother  !  my  mother  !  come  back !" 

Mrs.  Markland  returned  slowly,  and  with  the  air  of 
one  who  hesitated.  Fanny  leaned  forward  against  her, 
and  wept  freely. 

"It  is  not  yet  too  late,  my  child,  to  get  back  the  peace 
of  mind  which  this  concealment  has  destroyed.  Mr. 
Lyon  has  written  to  you?" 

"Yes,  mother." 

"May  I  see  his  letter?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Still  not  willing  to  trust  your  best  friend,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland. 

"Can  I  trust  you?"  said  Fanny,  raising  herself  up 
suddenly,  and  gazing  steadily  into  her  mother's  face. 
Mrs.  Markland  was  startled  as  well  by  the  words  of 
her  daughter  as  by  the  strange  expression  of  her 
countenance. 

"Trust  me?  What  do  you  mean  by  such  words?" 
she  answered. 

"If  I  tell  you  a  secret,  will  you,  at  least  for  a  little 
while,  keep  it  in  your  own  heart." 

"Keep  it  from  whom?" 

"From  father." 

"You  frighten  me,  my  child  !  What  have  you  to  do 
with  a  secret  that  must  be  kept  from  your  father!" 

"I  did  not  desire  its  custody." 

"  If  it  concerns  your  own  or  your  father's  welfare,  so 
much  the  more  is  it  imperative  on  you  to  speak  to  him 
freely.  No  true  friend  could  lay  upon  you  such  an  ob 
ligation,  and  the  quicker  you  throw  it  off  the  better. 
What  is  the  nature  of  this  secret?" 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          163 

"I  cannot  speak  unless  you  promise  me." 

"Promise  what?" 

"To  conceal  from  father  what  I  tell  you." 

"I  can  make  no  such  promise,  Fanny." 

"Then  I  am  bound  hand  and  foot,"  said  the  poor 
girl,  in  a  distressed  voice. 

A  long  silence  followed.  Then  the  mother  used  argu 
ment  and  persuasion  to  induce  Fanny  to  unbosom  herself. 
But  the  effort  was  fruitless. 

"  If  you  promise  to  keep  my  secret  for  a  single  week, 
I  will  speak,"  said  the  unhappy  girl,  at  length. 

"I  promise,"  was  reluctantly  answered. 

"You  know,"  answered  Fanny,  "it  was  rumored 
that  Mr.  Lyon  had  returned  from  the  South  while  father 
was  in  New  York."  She  did  not  look  up  at  her  mother 
as  she  said  this. 

"Yes."     Mrs.  Markland  spoke  eagerly. 

"It  is  true  that  he  was  here." 

u  And  you  saw  him  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  was  sitting  alone  in  the  summer-house,  over 
at  the  Fountain  Grove,  on  the  day  after  father  went  to 
New  York,  when  I  was  frightened  at  seeing  Mr.  Lyon. 
He  inquired  anxiously  if  father  were  at  home,  and  was 
much  troubled  when  I  told  him  he  had  gone  to  New 
York.  He  said  that  he  had  written  to  him  to  transact 
certain  business,  and  that  after  writing  he  had  seen 
reason  to  change  his  views,  and  fearing  that  a  letter 
might  not  reach  him  in  time,  had  hurried  back  in  order 
to  have  a  personal  interview,  but  arrived  too  late.  Fa 
ther  had  already  left  for  New  York.  This  being  so,  he 
started  back  for  the  South  at  once,  after  binding  me  to 


164  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

a  brief  secrecy.  He  said  that  the  fact  of  his  return,  if 
it  became  known  to  father,  might  be  misunderstood  by 
him,  and  the  consequence  of  such  a  misapprehension 
would  be  serious  injury  to  important  interests.  So  far 
I  have  kept  this  secret,  mother,  and  it  has  been  to  me  a 
painful  burden.  You  have  promised  to  keep  it  for  a 
single  week." 

"And  this  is  all?"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  looking 
anxiously  into  her  daughter's  face. 

"No,  not  all."  Fanny  spoke  firmly.  "I  have  since 
received  two  letters  from  him." 

"May  I  see  them?" 

Fanny  hesitated  for  some  moments,  and  then  going  to 
a  drawer,  took  two  letters  therefrom,  and  handed  one  of 
them  to  her  mother.  Mrs.  Markland  read  it  eagerly. 

"You  answered  this?"  she  said. 

"Yes." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"I  cannot  repeat  my  words.  I  was  half  beside 
myself,  and  only  begged  him  to  let  me  speak  to  you 
freely." 

"And  his  reply?"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"Read  it;"  and  Fanny  gave  her  the  second  letter. 

"  Have  you  answered  this  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Markland, 
after  reading  it  over  twice. 

Fanny  moved  across  the  room  again,  and  taking  from 
the  same  drawer  another  letter,  folded  and  sealed,  broke 
the  seal,  and  gave  it  to  her  mother. 
'  "My  poor,  bewildered,  unhappy  child!"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  in  a  voice  unsteady  from  deep  emotion ;  and 
she  gathered  her  arms  tightly  around  her.  "  How  little 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  165 

did  I  dream  of  the  trials  through  which  you  were 
passing.  But,  now  that  I  know  all,  let  me  be  your 
counsellor,  your  supporter.  You  will  be  guided  by 
me?" 

"And  you  will  not  break  your  promise?"  said  Fanny. 

"What  promise?" 

"  To  keep  this  from  father  a  single  week,  or,  until  I 
can  write  to  Mr.  Lyon,  and  give  him  the  chance  of 
making  the  communication  himself.  This  seems  to  me 
but  just  to  him,  as  some  interests,  unknown  to  us,  are 
at  stake." 

"Believe  me,  my  daughter,  it  will  be  wisest  to  let 
your  father  know  this  at  once." 

"A  week  can  make  but  little  difference,"  urged 
Fanny. 

"  Consequences  to  your  father,  of  the  utmost  import' 
ance,  may  be  at  stake.  He  is,  I  fear,  involving  himself 
with  this  man." 

"  Mr.  Lyon  is  true  and  honourable,"  said  Fanny. 
"  He  committed  an  error,  that  is  all.  Let  him  at  least 
have  the  privilege  of  making  his  own  explanations.  I 
will  add  to  my  letter  that  only  for  a  week  longer  can  I 
keep  his  secret,  and,  to  make  an  immediate  revelation 
imperative  on  him,  will  say  that  you  know  all,  and  will 
reveal  all  at  the  end  of  that  time,  if  he  does  not." 

No  considerations  that  Mrs.  Markland  could  urge 
had  any  effect  to  change  the  purpose  of  Fanny  in  this 
matter. 

"I  must  hold  you  to  your  promise,"  was  the  brief, 
final  answer  to  every  argument  set  forth  by  her  mother. 

How  far  she  might  hold   that  promise  sacred  was 


166  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

a  subject  of  long  and  grave  debate  in  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Markland.  But  we  will  not  here  anticipate  her 
decision. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

OVER  ten  days  had  elapsed  since  Mr.  Lyon  answered 
the  letter  of  Fanny  Markland,  and  he  was  still  awaiting 
a  reply. 

"This  is  a  risky  sort  of  business,"  so  his  friend  had 
written  him.  "  I  succeeded  in  getting  your  letter  into 
the  young  lady's  hands,  but  not  without  danger  of  dis 
covery.  For  whole  hours  I  loitered  in  the  grounds  of 
Mr.  Markland,  and  was  going  to  leave  for  the  city 
without  accomplishing  my  errand,  when  I  saw  Fanny 
coming  in  the  direction  of  the  summer-house.  After  the 
letter  was  deposited  in  the  place  agreed  upon,  and  I  was 
making  my  way  off,  I  almost  stumbled  over  her  father, 
who  had  just  returned  from  the  city.  He  saw  me, 
though,  of  course,  he  did  not  know  me,  nor  suspect  my 
errand.  But  my  evident  desire  to  avoid  observation 
must  have  excited  some  vague  suspicions  in  his  mind ; 
for,  on  reaching  a  point  from  which  I  could  observe 
without  being  observed,  I  saw  that  he  was  gazing  intently 
in  the  direction  I  had  taken.  Then  he  stepped  aside 
from  the  road,  and  walked  towards  the  grove.  But 
Fanny  was  a  little  in  advance  of  him,  and  secured  the 
letter.  I  waited  to  see  him  j  oin  her,  and  then  hurried  off. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  167 

"I  tell  you  again,  Lee,  this  is  a  risky  business.  Two 
days  have  passed,  and  yet  there  is  no  answer.  I've 
seen  Markland  in  the  city  once  since  that  time.  He 
looked  unusually  sober,  I  thought.  Perhaps  it  was  only 
imagination.  You  can  think  so  if  you  please.  Take 
my  advice,  and  make  no  further  advances  in  this  direc 
tion.  There  is  too  much  danger  of  discovery.  Markland 
has  paid  over  ten  thousand  dollars  to  Fenwick,  and  is  to 
produce  as  much  more  this  week.  He  goes  in,  you 
know,  for  forty  thousand.  The  balance  ought  to  be  had 
from  him  as  soon  as  possible.  Write  to  Fenwick  to  get 
it  without  delay.  That  is  my  advice.  If  you  get  his 
treasure,  you  will  have  his  heart.  Nothing  like  a  money 
interest  to  hold  a  man. 

"What  I  fear  is,  that  the  girl  has  told  him  all.  You 
•were  crazy  to  say  that  she  could  do  so  if  it  pleased  her. 
Well,  well!  We  shall  soon  see  where  this  wind  will 
drift  us.  You  shall  hear  from  me  the  moment  I  know 
any  thing  certain." 

Lyon  was  much  disturbed  by  this  letter.  He  at  once 
wrote  to  Mr.  Fenwick,  suggesting  the  propriety  of  getting 
the  whole  of  Mr.  Markland' s  investment  as  early  as 
possible. 

"I  hear,"  he  said,  "that  he  is  somewhat  inclined  to 
vacillate.  That,  after  making  up  his  mind  to  do  a  thing, 
and  even  after  initiative  steps  are  taken,  he  is  apt  to 
pause,  look  back,  and  reconsider.  This,  of  course,  will 
not  suit  us.  The  best  way  to  manage  him  will  be  to  get 
his  money  in  our  boat,  and  then  we  are  sure  of  him.  He 
is  very  wealthy,  and  can  be  of  great  use  in  the  prosecu 
tion  of  our  schemes." 


168  THE  GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Two  or  three  days  more  elapsed,  and  Lyon  was  getting 
nervously  anxious,  when  a  letter  from  Fanny  reached 
him.  It  was  brief,  but  of  serious  import. 

"I  have  revealed  all  to  my  mother,"  it  began,  "  and 
my  heart  feels  lighter.  She  promises  to  keep  our  secret 
one  week,  and  no  longer.  Then  all  will  be  revealed  to 
father.  I  gained  this  much  time  in  order  that  you  might 
have  an  opportunity  to  write  and  tell  him  every  thing 
yourself.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  will  be  the  best  way. 
No  time  is  to  be  lost.  The  week  will  expire  quite  as 
soon  as  your  letter  can  reach  him.  So  pray,  Mr.  Lyon, 
write  at  once.  I  shall  scarcely  sleep  until  all  is  over." 

With  an  angry  imprecation,  Lyon  dashed  this  letter 
on  the  floor.  "Mad  girl!"  he  said;  "did  I  not  warn 
her  fully  of  the  consequences  ?  Write  to  her  father  ? 
What  shall  I  write  ?  Tell  him  that  I  have  deceived 
him !  That  when  he  thought  me  far  away  I  was  sitting 
beside  his  daughter,  and  tempting  her  to  act  towards 
him  with  concealment,  if  not  duplicity !  Madness ! 
folly!" 

"  I  was  a  fool,"  he  communed  with  himself  in  a  calmer 
mood,  "to  put  so  much  in  jeopardy  for  a  woman  !  Nay, 
a  girl — a  mere  child.  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  Three 
days  only  intervene  between  this  time  and  the  period  at 
which  our  secret  will  be  made  known ;  so,  whatever  is 
to  be  done  must  be  determined  quickly.  Shall  I  treat 
the  matter  with  Markland  seriously,  or  lightly  ?  Not 
seriously,  for  that  will  surely  cause  him  to  do  the  same. 
Lightly,  of  course ;  for  the  manner  in  which  I  speak  of 
it  will  have  its  influence.  But  first,  I  must  manage  to 
get  him  off  to  New  York,  and  in  the  hands  of  Fenwick. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  169 

The  larger  his  actual  investment  in  this  business,  the 
more  easily  the  matter  will  be  settled." 

So  he  drew  a  sheet  of  paper  before  him,  and  wrote : 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  MARKLAND  : — I  have  had  so  much 
important  correspondence  with  Mr.  Fenwick,  our  manag 
ing  agent  in  New  York,  consequent  on  letters  from 
London  and  Liverpool  by  last  steamer,  that  I  have  been 
unable  to  proceed  further  than  this  point,  but  shall  leave 
to-morrow.  Mr.  Fenwick  has  some  very  important 
information  to  communicate,  and  if  he  has  not  found 
time  to  write  you,  I  would  advise  your  going  on  to  New 
York  immediately.  At  best,  hurried  business  letters 
give  but  imperfect  notions  of  things.  An  hour's  inter 
view  with  Mr.  Fenwick  will  enable  you  to  comprehend 
the  present  state  of  affairs  more  perfectly  than  the 
perusal  of  a  volume  of  letters.  Some  new  aspects  have 
presented  themselves  that  I  particularly  wish  you  to 
consider.  Mr.  Fenwick  has  great  confidence  in  your 
judgment,  and  would,  I  know,  like  to  confer  with  you. 

"  Do  not  fail  to  bring  me  to  the  remembrance  of  Mrs. 
Markland  and  Fanny. 

Ever  yours,  LEE  LYON." 

"This  for  to-day's  mail,"  said  he,  as  he  folded  the 
letter.  "  If  it  does  the  work  it  is  designed  to  accomplish, 
time,  at  least,  will  be  gained.  Now  for  the  harder 
task." 

Three  times  he  tried  to  address  Mr.  Markland  again, 
and  as  often  tore  up  his  letter.  A  fourth  trial  brought 

something  nearer  the  mark. 

15 


170  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  wrote,  "a  certain  hasty  act  of  mine, 
of  which  I  ought  before  to  have  advised  you,  may 
slightly  disturb  your  feelings.  Yet  don't  let  it  have 
that  effect,  for  there  is  no  occasion  whatever.  Soon 
after  leaving  for  the  South,  I  wrote  you  to  go  to  New 
York.  The  next  mail  brought  me  letters  that  rendered 
such  a  visit  unnecessary,  and  fearing  a  communication 
by  mail  might  not  reach  you  promptly,  I  returned 
rapidly,  and  hastened  to  Woodbine  Lodge  to  see  you. 
Approaching  your  dwelling,  I  met  Fanny,  and  learned 
from  her  that  you  had  left  for  New  York.  Foolishly, 
as  I  now  see  it,  I  desired  your  daughter  to  keep  the 
fact  a  secret  for  a  short  period,  fearing  lest  you  might 
not  clearly  comprehend  my  reason  for  returning.  I 
wished  to  explain  the  matter  myself.  This  trifling  affair, 
it  seems,  has  made  Fanny  very  unhappy.  I  am  really 
sorry.  But  it  is  over  now,  and  I  trust  her  spirits  will 
rise  again.  You  understand  me  fully,  and  can  easily 
see  why  I  might  naturally  fall  into  this  trifling  error. 

"  I  wrote  you  yesterday,  and  hope  you  acted  upon  my 
suggestion.  I  proceed  South  in  an  hour.  Every  thing 
looks  bright." 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  171 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"IT  must  be  done  this  evening,  Fanny,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  firmly.  "  The  week  has  expired." 

"Wait  until  to-morrow,  dear  mother,"  was  urged  in 
a  manner  that  was  almost  imploring. 

"My  promise  was  for  one  week.  Even  against  my 
own  clear  convictions  of  right,  have  I  kept  it.  This 
evening,  your  father  must  know  all." 

Fanny  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept  violently. 

The  trial  and  conflict  of  that  week  were,  to  Mrs. 
Markland,  the  severest,  perhaps,  of  her  whole  life. 
Never  before  had  her  mind  been  in  so  confused  a  state ; 
never  had  the  way  of  duty  seemed  so  difficult  to  find. 
A  promise  she  felt  to  be  a  sacred  thing ;  and  this  feeling 
had  constrained  her,  even  in  the  face  of  most  powerful 
considerations,  to  remain  true  to  her  word.  But  now, 
she  no  longer  doubted  or  hesitated ;  and  she  was  counting 
the  hours  that  must  elapse  before  her  husband's  return 
from  the  city,  eager  to  unburden  her  heart  to  him. 

"There  is  hardly  time,"  said  Fanny,  "for  a  letter 
to  arrive  from  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  my  child.  Any  further  delay  on 
my  part  would  be  criminal.  Evil,  past  all  remedy,  may 
have  already  been  done." 

"  I  only  asked  for  time,  that  Mr.  Lyon  might  have 
an  opportunity  to  write  to  father,  and  explain  every 
thing  himself." 


172  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

"  Probably  your  father  has  heard  from  him  to-day. 
If  so,  well;  but,  if  not,  I  shall  certainly  bring  the 
matter  to  his  knowledge." 

There  was  something  so  decisive  about  Mrs.  Markland, 
that  Fanny  ceased  all  further  attempts  to  influence  her, 
and  passively  awaited  the  issue. 

The  sun  had  only  a  few  degrees  to  make  ere  passing 
from  sight  behind  the  western  mountains.  It  was  the 
usual  time  for  Mr.  Markland' s  return  from  the  city,  and 
most  anxiously  was  his  appearing  looked  for.  But  the 
sun  went  down,  and  the  twilight  threw  its  veil  over  wood 
and  valley,  and  still  his  coming  was  delayed.  He  had 
gone  in  by  railroad,  and  not  by  private  conveyance 
as  usual.  The  latest  train  had  swept  shrieking  past, 
full  half  an  hour,  when  Mrs.  Markland  turned  sadly 
from  the  portico,  in  which  she  had  for  a  long  time  been 
stationed,  saying  to  Grace,  who  had  been  watching  by 
her  side — 

"  This  is  very  strange !  What  can  keep  Edward  ? 
Can  it  be  possible  that  he  has  remained  in  the  city  all 
night?  I'm  very  much  troubled.  He  may  be  sick." 

"More  likely,"  answered  Grace,  in  a  fault-finding 
way,  "  he's  gone  trapseing  off  to  New  York  again,  after 
that  Englishman's  business.  I  wish  he  would  mind  his 
own  affairs." 

"He  would  not  have  done  this  without  sending  us 
word,"  replied  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  Oh !  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  I'm  prepared  for 
any  thing."  . 

"But  it's  not  like  Edward.  You  know  that  he  is 
particularly  considerate  about  such  things." 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          173 

"  He  used  to  be.  But  Edward  Markland  of  last  year 
is  not  the  Edward  Markland  of  to-day,  as  you  know 
right  well,"  returned  the  sister-in-law. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  in  that  way  about  Edward 
any  more,  Grace.  It  is  very  unpleasant  to  me." 

"  The  more  so,  because  it  is  the  truth,"  replied  Grace 
Markland.  "  Edward,  I'll  warrant  you,  is  now  sweeping 
off  towards  New  York.  See  if  I'm  not  right." 

"No,  there  he  is  now!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markland, 
stepping  back  from  the  door  she  was  about  to  enter,  as 
the  sound  of  approaching  feet  arrested  her  ear. 

The  two  women  looked  eagerly  through  the  dusky 
air.  A  man's  form  was  visible.  It  came  nearer. 

"Edward!"  was  just  passing  joyfully  from  the  lips 
of  Mrs.  Markland,  when  the  word  was  suppressed. 

"Good-evening,  ladies,"  said  a  strange  voice,  as  a 
man  whom  neither  of  them  recognised  paused  within  a 
few  steps  of  where  they  stood. 

"Mr.  Willet  is  my  name,"  he  added. 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Willet,  our  new  neighbour,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  with  a  forced  composure  of  manner.  "  Walk 
in,  if  you  please.  We  were  on  the  lookout  for  Mr. 
Markland.  He  has  not  yet  arrived  from  the  city,  and 
we  are  beginning  to  feel  anxious  about  him." 

"  I  am  here  to  relieve  that  anxiety,"  replied  the 
visitor  in  a  cheerful  voice,  as  he  stepped  on  the  portico. 
"  Mr.  Markland  has  made  me  the  bearer  of  a  message 
to  his  family." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  What  has  detained  him  in  the  city  ?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Markland,  in  tones  expressing  her  grief 
and  disappointment. 


174  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  He  has  gone  to  New  York,"  replied  Mr.  Willet. 

"  To  New  York  !" 

"  Yes.  He  desired  me  to  say  to  you,  that  letters 
received  by  the  afternoon's  mail  brought  information 
that  made  his  presence  in  New  York  of  importance.  He 
had  no  time,  before  the  cars  started,  to  write,  and  I, 
therefore,  bring  you  his  verbal  message." 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  Mr.  Willet  to  accept  any 
courteous  invitation  extended  by  the  family  to  pass  a 
part  of  the  evening  with  them ;  but,  seeing  how  troubled 
Mrs.  Markland  was  at  the  absence  of  her  husband,  he 
thought  it  better  to  decline  entering  the  house,  and  wait 
for  a  better  opportunity  to  make  their  more  intimate 
acquaintance.  So  he  bade  her  a  good  evening,  after 
answering  what  further  inquiries  she  wished  to  make, 
and  returned  to  his  own  home. 

Aunt  Grace  was  unusually  excited  by  the  information 
received  through  their  neighbour,  and  fretted  and  talked 
in  her  excited  way  for  some  time ;  but  nothing  that  she 
said  elicited  any  reply  from  Mrs.  Markland,  who  seemed 
half  stupefied,  and  sat  through  the  evening  in  a  state  of 
deep  abstraction,  answering  only  in  brief  sentences  any 
remarks  addressed  to  her.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  her 
feet  had  wandered  somehow  into  the  mazes  of  a  laby 
rinth,  from  which  at  each  effort  to  get  free  she  was  only 
the  more  inextricably  involved.  Her  perceptions  had 
lost  their  clearness,  and,  still  worse,  her  confidence  in 
them  was  diminishing.  Heretofore  she  had  reposed  all 
trust  in  her  husband's  rational  intelligence ;  and  her 
woman's  nature  had  leaned  upon  him  and  clung  to  him 
as  the  vine  to  the  oak.  As  his  judgment  determined, 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  175 

her  intuitions  had  approved.  Alas  for  her  that  this  was 
no  longer !  Hitherto  she  had  walked  by  his  side  with  a 
clear  light  upon  their  path.  She  was  ready  to  walk  on 
still,  and  to  walk  bravely  so  far  as  herself  was  concerned, 
even  though  her  straining  eyes  could  not  penetrate  the 
cloudy  veil  that  made  all  before  her  darkness  and 
mystery. 

Fanny,  who  had  looked  forward  with  a  vague  fear  to 
her  father's  return  on  that  evening,  felt  relieved  on 
hearing  that  he  had  gone  to  New  York,  for  that  would 
give  sufficient  time  for  him  to  receive  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Lyon. 

Thus  it  was  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Markland  on  this 
particular  occasion.  A  crisis,  looked  for  with  trembling 
anxiety,  seemed  just  at  hand ;  and  yet  it  was  still  de 
ferred — leaving,  at  least  in  one  bosom,  a  heart-sickness 
that  made  life  itself  almost  a  burden. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  close  of  the  next  day  did  not  bring  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  but  only  a  hurried  letter,  saying  that  important 
business  would  probably  keep  him  in  New  York  a  day 
or  two  longer.  A  postscript  to  the  letter  read  thus : 

"  Mr.  Elbridge  will  send  you  a  deed  of  some  ware 
house  property  that  I  have  sold.  Sign  and  return  it  by 
the  bearer." 

If  Mr.  Markland  had  only  said  where  a  letter  would 


176  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

reach  him  in  New  York,  his  wife  would  have  lost  no 
time  in  writing  fully  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Lyon's 
conduct  toward  Fanny.  But,  as  there  was  great  un 
certainty  about  this,  she  felt  that  she  could  only  await  his 
return.  And  now  she  blamed  herself  deeply  for  having 
kept  her  word  to  Fanny.  It  was  one  of  those  cases,  she 
saw,  in  which  more  evil  was  likely  to  flow  from  keeping 
a  blind,  almost  extorted  promise,  than  from  breaking  it. 

"I  ought  to  have  seen  my  duty  clearer,"  she  said,  in 
self-condemnation.  "  What  blindness  has  possessed  me !" 
And  so  she  fretted  herself,  and  admitted  into  her  once 
calm,  trusting  spirit,  a  flood  of  self-reproaches  and  dis 
quietude. 

Fanny,  now  that  the  so  anxiously  dreaded  period  had 
gone  by,  and  there  was  hope  that  her  father  would  learn 
all  from  Mr.  Lyon  before  he  returned  home,  relapsed 
into  a  more  passive  state  of  mind.  She  had  suffered 
much  beyond  her  natural  powers  of  endurance,  in  the 
last  few  days.  A  kind  of  reaction  now  followed,  and 
she  experienced  a  feeling  of  indifference  as  to  results 
and  consequences,  that  was  a  necessary  relief  to  the 
over-strained  condition  of  mind  which  had  for  some  time 
existed. 

On  the  day  following,  another  letter  was  received 
from  Mr.  Markland. 

"You  must  not  expect  me  until  the  last  of  this  week," 
he  said.  "  Business  matters  of  great  importance  will 
keep  me  here  until  that  time.  I  have  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Lyon  which  I  do  not  much  like.  It  seems  that  he  was 
at  Woodbine  Lodge,  and  saw  Fanny,  while  I  was  away 
in  New  York.  I  have  talked  with  a  Mr.  Fenwick  here, 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  177 

a  gentleman  who  knows  all  about  him  and  his  business, 
and  he  assures  me  that  the  reasons  which  Mr.  Lyon 
gave  for  returning  as  he  did  from  the  South  are  valid. 
What  troubles  me  most  is  that  Fanny  should  have  con 
cealed  it  from  both  you  and  her  father.  We  will  talk 
this  matter  over  fully  on  my  return.  If  I  had  known 
it  earlier,  it  might  have  led  to  an  entire  change  of  plans 
for  the  future.  But  it  is  too  late  now. 

"  I  wrote  you  yesterday  that  I  wished  you  to  sign  a 
deed  which  Mr.  Elbridge  would  send  out.  He  will  send 
two  more,  which  I  would  also  like  you  to  sign.  I  am 
making  some  investments  here  of  great  prospective 
value." 

Mrs.  Markland  read  this  letter  over  and  over  again, 
and  sat  and  thought  about  its  contents  until  her  mind 
grew  so  bewildered  that  it  seemed  as  if  reason  were 
about  to  depart.  If  it  was  suggested  that  she  ought 
not  to  sign  the  deeds  that  were  to  be  presented  for  her 
signature,  the  suggestion  was  not  for  a  single  moment 
entertained ;  but  rather  flung  aside  with  something  of 
indignation. 

A  day  or  two  after  Mr.  Willet  called  with  the  message 
from  Mr.  Markland,  he  went  over  again  to  Woodbine 
Lodge.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  Fanny  was 
sitting  in  the  portico  that  looked  from  the  western  front 
of  the  dwelling,  with  her  thoughts  so  far  away  from  the 
actual  things  around  her  that  she  did  not  notice  the 
approach  of  any  one,  until  Mr.  Willet,  whom  she  had 
never  met,  was  only  a  few  yards  distant ;  then  she 
looked  up,  and  as  her  eyes  rested  upon  ,him,  she  started 

to  her  feet  and  struck  her  hands  together,  uttering  an 
M 


178  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

involuntary  exclamation  of  surprise.  The  name  of  Mr. 
Lyon  was  half  uttered,  when  she  saw  her  mistake,  and 
made  a  strong  effort  to  compose  her  suddenly  disturbed 
manner. 

"  Mrs.  Markland  is  at  home,  I  presume,"  said  the 
visitor,  in  a  respectful  manner,  as  he  paused  a  few  paces 
distant  from  Fanny,  and  observed,  with  some  surprise, 
the  agitation  his  appearance  had  occasioned. 

"She  is.  Will  you  walk  in,  sir?"  The  voice  of 
Fanny  trembled,  though  she  strove  hard  to  speak  calmly 
and  with  apparent  self-possession. 

"My  name  is  Mr.  Willet." 

"Oh!  our  new  neighbour."  And  Fanny  forced  a 
smile,  while  she  extended  her  hand,  as  she  added : 

"  Walk  in,  sir.  My  mother  will  be  gratified  to  see 
you." 

"  Has  your  father  returned  from  New  York  ?"  in 
quired  Mr.  Willet,  as  he  stood  looking  down  upon  the 
face  of  Miss  Markland,  with  a  feeling  of  admiration  for 
its  beauty  and  innocence. 

"  Not  yet.  Mother  does  not  look  for  him  until  the 
last  of  this  week." 

"  He  did  not  expect  to  be  gone  over  a  single  day, 
when  he  left?" 

"  No,  sir.  But  business  has  detained  him.  Will  you 
not  walk  in,  Mr.  Willet?"  The  earnestness  with  which 
he  was  looking  into  her  face  was  disconcerting  Fanny. 
So  she  stepped  toward  the  door,  and  led  the  way  into 
the  house. 

"  Mr.  Willet,"  said  Fanny,  introducing  her  visitor,  as 
they  entered  the  sitting-room. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  179 

Mrs.  Markland  extended  her  hand  and  gave  their 
new  neighbour  a  cordial  reception.  Aunt  Grace  bowed 
formally,  and  fixed  her  keen  eyes  upon  him  with  search 
ing  glances.  While  the  former  was  thinking  how  best 
to  entertain  their  visitor,  the  latter  was  scrutinizing  his 
every  look,  tone,  word,  and  movement.  At  first,  the 
impression  made  upon  her  was  not  altogether  favourable  ; 
but  gradually,  as  she  noted  every  particular  of  his  con 
versation,  as  well  as  the  various  changes  of  his  voice 
and  countenance,  her  feelings  toward  him  underwent  a 
change ;  and  when  he  at  length  addressed  a  few  words 
to  her,  she  replied,  with  unusual  blandness  of  manner. 
€  "  How  are  your  mother  and  sisters  ?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Markland,  soon  after  Mr.  Willet  came  in.  "I  have  not 
yet  called  over  to  see  them,  but  shall  do  so  to-morrow." 

"  They  are  well,  and  will  be  exceedingly  gratified  to 
receive  a  visit  from  you,"  replied  Mr.  Willet. 

"  How  are  they  pleased  with  the  country  ?" 

"  That  question  they  would  find  it  difficult  yet  to  an 
swer.  There  is  much  pleasant  novelty,  and  much  real 
enjoyment  of  nature's  varied  beauties.  A  sense  of 
freedom  and  a  quietude  of  spirit,  born  of  the  stillness 
that,  to  people  just  from  the  noisy  town,  seems  brooding 
over  all  things.  Some  of  the  wants,  created  by  our  too 
artificial  mode  of  living  in  cities,  are  occasionally  felt ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  we  are  gainers,  so  far,  by  our  ex 
periment." 

"  Your  sisters,  I  am  sure,  must  enjoy  the  beauty  with 
which  you  are  surrounded.  There  is  not  a  lovelier  place 
than  the  one  you  have  selected  in  the  whole  neigh 
bourhood." 


180  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Always  excepting  Woodbine  Lodge,"  returned  the 
visitor,  with  a  courteous  bow.  "Yes,"  he  added, 
"  Sweetbrier  is  a  charming  spot,  and  its  beauty  grows 
upon  you  daily.  My  sister  Flora,  just  about  your  own 
age,"  and  Mr.  Willet  turned  toward  Fanny,  "is  par 
ticularly  desirous  to  make  your  acquaintance.  You  must 
call  over  with  your  mother.  I  am  sure  you  will  like 
each  other.  Flora,  if  a  brother  may  venture  to  herald 
a  sister's  praise,  is  a  dear,  good  girl.  She  has  heard  a 
friend  speak  of  you,  and  bears  already,  toward  you,  a 
feeling  of  warmer  tone  than  mere  friendship." 

Mr.  Willet  fixed  his  eyes  so  earnestly  on  the  counte 
nance  of  Fanny,  that  she  partly  averted  her  face  to 
conceal  the  warm  flush  that  came  to  her  cheeks. 

"I  shall  be  happy  to  make  her  acquaintance,"  she 
replied.  "  Our  circle  of  friends  cannot  be  so  large  here 
as  in  the  city ;  but  we  may  find  compensation  in  closer 
attachments." 

"  I  will  say  to  my  mother  and  sisters,  that  they  may 
expect  to  see  you  to-morrow."  And  Mr.  Willet  looked 
from  face  to  face. 

"Yes;  we  will  ride  over  to-morrow,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland. 

"And  you,  also,  Miss  Markland."  The  courteous 
manner  in  which  this  was  said  quite  won  the  heart  of 
Aunt  Grace,  and  she  replied  that  she  would  give  herself 
that  pleasure. 

Mr.  Willet  sat  for  an  hour,  during  which  time  he  con 
versed  in  the  most  agreeable  and  intelligent  manner; 
and,  on  retiring,  left  behind  him  a  very  favourable  im 
pression. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  181 

"  I  like  that  man,"  said  Aunt  Grace,  with  an  emphasis 
that  caused  Mrs.  Markland  to  look  toward  her  and 
smile. 

"  That's  a  little  remarkable.  You  are  not  very  apt 
to  like  men  at  first  sight." 

"I  like  him,  for  he's  a  true  man  and  a  gentleman," 
returned  Aunt  Grace.  "  And  true  men,  I  think,  are 
scarce  articles." 

"  Ever  hasty  in  your  conclusions,  whether  favourable 
or  unfavourable,"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  And  rarely  in  error.  You  may  add  that,"  replied 
the  sister-in-law,  confidently.  "  When  Mr.  Lyon  dark 
ened  our  doors," — Fanny  was  passing  from  the  room, 
and  Aunt  Grace  spoke  in  a  guarded  voice — "  I  said  he 
would  leave  a  shadow  behind  him,  and  so  he  has.  Was 
my  judgment  hasty,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned?  I 
think  you  will  hardly  say  so.  But,  my  word  for  it,  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Willet  will  ever  bring  a  gleam  of  sun 
shine.  I  am  glad  he  has  come  into  our  neighbourhood. 
If  his  mother  and  sisters  are  like  him,  they  are  a  com 
pany  of  choice  spirits." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

To  the  opinion  of  her  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Markland 
made  no  dissent.  She  was,  also,  favourably  impressed 
with  Mr.  Willet,  and  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to 
making  the  acquaintance  of  his  mother  and  sisters. 

On  the  following  morning  the  carriage  was  ordered, 

16 


182  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

and  about  eleven  o'clock  Mrs.  Markland,  Aunt  Grace, 
and  Fanny,  were  driven  over  to  "  Sweetbrier,"  the 
fanciful  name  which  Mr.  Ashton,  the  former  owner,  had 
given  to  the  beautiful  seat,  now  the  property  of  Mr.  Willet. 

The  day  was  cloudless,  the  air  cool  and  transparent, 
the  sky  of  the  deepest  cerulean.  These  mirrored  them 
selves  in  the  spirits  of  our  little  party.  Mrs.  Markland 
looked  calm  and  cheerful ;  Fanny's  thoughts  were  drawn 
out  of  herself,  and  her  heart  responded  to  the  visible 
beauty  around  her.  Even  Aunt  Grace  talked  of  the 
sky,  the  trees,  and  the  flowers,  and  saw  a  new  charm  in 
every  thing. 

"I  presume  we  shall  not  meet  Mr.  Willet,"  she  re 
marked,  as  the  carriage  drove  within  the  elegant  grounds 
of  their  neighbour. 

"He  probably  goes  to  the  city  every  day,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland.  "  I  believe  he  is  engaged  in  business." 

"Yes ;  I  think  I  heard  Edward  say  that  he  was." 

"  Our  visit  might  be  a  pleasant  one  in  some  respects," 
observed  Mrs.  Markland,  "if  he  were  at  home.  To 
him,  we  are  not  entire  strangers." 

"I  see  him  in  the  portico,"  said  Fanny,  leaning 
toward  the  carriage  window.  They  were  now  in  sight 
of  the  house. 

"  Yes,  there  he  is,"  added  Aunt  Grace,  in  a  pleased 
tone  of  voice. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the  beautiful 
mansion,  in  the  portico  of  which  were  Mr.  Willet  and 
his  mother  and  sisters,  waiting  to  receive  them.  The 
welcome  was  most  cordial,  and  the  ladies  soon  felt  at 
home  with  each  other. 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  183 

Flora,  the  youngest  sister  of  Mr.  Willet,  was  a  lovely 
girl  about  Fanny's  age.  It  did  not  take  them  long  to 
know  and  appreciate  each  other.  The  mind  of  Flora 
was  naturally  stronger  than  that  of  Fanny,  partaking 
slightly  of  the  masculine  type ;  but  only  sufficient  to 
give  it  firmness  and  self-reliance.  Her  school  education 
had  progressed  farther,  and  she  had  read,  and  thought, 
and  seen  more  of  the  world  than  fanny.  Yet  the  world 
had  left  no  stain  upon  her  garments,  for,  in  entering  it, 
she  had  been  lovingly  guarded.  To  her  brother  she 
looked  up  with  much  of  a  child's  unwavering  confidence. 
He  was  a  few  years  her  senior,  and  she  could  not  remember 
the  time  when  she  had  not  regarded  him  as  a  man  whose 
counsels  were  full  of  wisdom. 

"  Where  have  you  been  for  the  last  hour  ?"  Mr.  Willet 
inquired  of  the  young  maidens,  as  they  entered,  arm-in 
arm,  their  light  forms  gently  inclined  to  each  other. 

"Wandering  over  your  beautiful  grounds,"  replied 
Fanny. 

"I  hardly  thought  you  would  see  them  as  beautiful," 
said  Mr.  Willet. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  have  no  eye  for  the  beautiful?" 
returned  Fanny,  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  so,"  quickly  answered  Mr.  Willet.  "  Woodbine 
Lodge  is  so  near  perfection  that  you  must  see  defects  in 
Sweetbrier." 

"  I  never  saw  half  the  beauty  in  nature  that  has  been 
revealed  to  my  eyes  this  morning,"  said  Fanny.  "  It 
seemed  as  if  I  had  come  upon  enchanted  ground.  Ah, 
sir,  your  sister  has  opened  a  new  book  for  me  to  read 
in — the  book  of  nature." 


184  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Mr.  Willet  glanced,  half-inquiringly,  toward  Flora. 

"Fanny  speaks  with  enthusiasm,"  said  the  sister. 

"What  have  you  been  talking  about?  What  new 
leaf  has  Flora  turned  for  you,  Miss  Markland?" 

"A  leaf  on  which  there  is  much  written  that  I  already 
yearn  to  understand.  All  things  visible,  your  sister 
said  to  me,  are  but  the  bodying  forth  in  nature  of  things 
invisible,  yet  in  harmony  with  immutable  laws  of 
order." 

"  Reason  will  tell  you  that  this  is  true,"  remarked 
Mr.  Willet. 

"  Yes ;  I  see  that  it  must  be  so.  Yet  what  a  world 
of  new  ideas  it  opens  to  the  mind !  The  flower  I  hold 
in  my  hand,  Flora  says,  is  but  the  outbirth,  or  bodily 
form,  of  a  spiritual  flower.  How  strange  the  thought !" 

"Did  she  not  speak  truly?"  asked  Mr.  Willet,  in  a 
low,  earnest  voice. 

"What  is  that?"  inquired  Mrs.  Markland,  who  was 
not  sure  that  she  had  heard  her  daughter  correctly. 

"  Flora  says  that  this  flower  is  only  the  bodily  form 
of  a  spiritual  flower;  and  that,  without  the  latter,  the 
former  would  have  no  existence." 

Mrs.  Markland  let  her  eyes  fall  to  the  floor,  and 
mused  for  some  moments. 

"  A  new  thought  to  me,"  she  at  length  said,  looking 
up.  "Where  did  you  find  it,  Flora  ?" 

"  I  have  believed  this  ever  since  I  could  remember 
any  thing,"  replied  Flora. 

"You  have?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  It  was  among  the  first  lessons  that  I 
learned  from  my  mother." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  185 

"Then  you  believe  that  every  flower  has  a  spirit," 
said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"  Every  flower  has  life,"  was  calmly  answered. 

"True." 

"  And  every  different  flower  a  different  life.  How 
different,  may  be  seen  when  we  think  of  the  flower  which 
graces  the  deadly  nightshade,  and  of  that  which  comes 
the  fragrant  herald  of  the  juicy  orange.  We  call  this 
life  the  spiritual  flower." 

"A  spiritual  flower!  Singular  thought!"  Mrs. 
Markland  mused  for  some  time. 

"  There  is  a  spiritual  world,"  said  Mr.  Willet,  in  his 
gentle,  yet  earnest  way. 

"Oh,  yes.  We  all  believe  that."  Mrs.  Markland 
fixed  her  eyes  on  the  face  of  Mr.  Willet  with  a  look  of 
interest. 

"  What  do  we  mean  by  a  world  ?" 

Mrs.  Markland  felt  a  rush  of  new  ideas,  though  seen 
but  dimly,  crowding  into  her  mind. 

"We  cannot  think  of  a  world,"  said  Mr.  Willet, 
"  except  as  filled  with  objects,  whether  that  world  be 
spiritual  or  natural.  The  poet,  in  singing  of  the  heavenly 
land,  fails  not  to  mention  its  fields  of  *  living  green,'  and 
'rivers  of  delight.'  And  what  are  fields  without  grass, 
and  flowers,  and  tender  herb  ?  If,  then,  there  be  flow 
ers  in  the  spiritual  world,  they  must  be  spiritual  flowers." 

"And  that  is  what  Flora  meant  ?"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"Nothing  more,"  said  Flora;  "unless  I  add,  that  all 
flowers  in  the  natural  world  derive  their  life  from  flowers 
in  the  spiritual  world;  as  all  other  objects  in  nature 

have  a  like  correspondent  origin." 

16* 


186  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

"This  comes  to  me  as  an  entirely  new  idea,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland,  in  a  thoughtful  way.  "  Yet  how  beau 
tiful  !  It  seems  to  bring  my  feet  to  the  verge  of  a  new 
world,  and  my  hand  trembles  with  an  impulse  to  stretch 
itself  forth  and  lift  the  vail." 

"  Do  not  repress  the  impulse,"  sa^d  Mrs.  Willet,  laying 
a  hand  gently  upon  one  of  Mrs.  Markland's. 

"Ah  !     But  I  grope  in  the  dark." 

"  We  see  but  dimly  here,  for  we  live  in  the  outward 
world,  and  only  faint  yet  truthful  images  of  the  inner 
world  are  revealed  to  us.  No  effort  of  the  mind  is  so 
difficult  as  that  of.  lifting  itself  above  the  natural  and 
the  visible  into  the  spiritual  and  invisible — invisible,  I 
mean,  to  the  bodily  eyes.  So  bound  down  by  mere 
sensual  things  are  all  our  ideas,  that  it  is  impossible, 
when  the  effort  is  first  made,  to  see  any  thing  clear  in 
spiritual  light.  Yet  soon,  if  the  effort  be  made,  will  the 
straining  vision  have  faint  glimpses  of  a  world  whose 
rare  beauties  have  never  been  seen  by  natural  eyes. 
There  is  the  natural,  and  there  is  the  spiritual ;  but  they 
are  so  distinct  from  each  other,  that  the  one  by  sublima 
tion,  increase,  or  decrease,  never  becomes  the  other. 
Yet  are  they  most  intimately  connected ;  so  intimately 
that,  without  the  latter,  the  former  could  have  no  exist 
ence.  The  relation  is,  in  fact,  that  of  cause  and  effect." 

"  I  fear  this  subject  is  too  grave  a  one  for  our  visi 
tors,"  said  Mr.  Willet,  as  his  mother  ceased  speaking. 

"It  may  be,"  remarked  the  lady,  with  a  gentle  smile 
that  softened  her  features  and  gave  them  a  touch  of 
heavenly  beauty.  "  And  Mrs.  Markland  will  forgive  its 
intrusion  upon  her.  We  must  not  expect  that  others 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  187 

will  always  be  attracted  by  themes  in  which  we  feel  a 
special  interest." 

"You  could  not  interest  me  more,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land.  "  I  am  listening  with  the  deepest  attention." 

"  Have  you  ever  thought  much  of  the  relation  between 
your  soul  and  body ;  or,  as  I  would  say,  between  your 
spiritual  body  and  your  natural  body?"  asked  Mrs. 
Willet. 

"Often;  but  with  a  vagueness  that  left  the  mind 
wearied  and  dissatisfied." 

"  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Allison  on  that  subject," 
said  Fanny. 

"Ah!"  Mrs.  Willet  looked  toward  Fanny  with  a 
brightening  face.  "  And  what  did  he  say  ?" 

"  Oh !  a  great  deal — more  than  I  can  remember." 

"You  can  recollect  something?" 

"  Oh  yes.  He  said  that  our  spiritual  bodies  were  as 
perfectly  organized  as  our  material  bodies,  and  that  they 
could  see,  and  hear,  and  feel." 

"  He  said  truly.  That  our  spirits  have  vision  every  one 
admits,  when  he  uses  the  words,  on  presenting  some  idea 
or  principle  to  another — '  Can't  you  see  it?'  The  archi 
tect  sees  the  palace  or  temple  before  he  embodies  it  in 
marble,  and  thus  makes  it  visible  to  natural  eyes.  So 
does  the  painter  see  his  picture ;  and  the  sculptor  his 
statue  in  the  unhewn  stone.  You  see  the  form  of  your 
absent  father  with  a  distinctness  of  vision  that  makes 
every  feature  visible ;  but  not  with  the  eyes  of  your 
body." 

"No,  not  with  my  bodily  eyes,"  said  Fanny.  "I 
have  thought  a  great  deal  about  this  since  I  talked  with 


188  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

Mr.  Allison;  and  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more 
clearly  do  I  perceive  that  \ve  have  spiritual  bodies  as 
well  as  natural  bodies." 

"  And  the  inevitable  conclusion  is,  that  the  spiritual 
body  must  live,  breathe,  and  act  in  a  world  above  or 
within  the  natural  world,  where  all  things  are  adapted 
to  its  functions  and  quality." 

"  In  this  world  are  the  spiritual  flowers  we  were 
speaking  about  ?"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  in  this  world  of  causes,  where  originate 
all  effects  seen  in  the  world  of  nature,"  answered  Mrs. 
Willet ; — "  the  world  from  which  flowers  as  well  as  men 
are  born." 

"I  am  bewildered,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  "by  these 
suggestions.  That  a  volume  of  truth  lies  hidden  from 
common  eyes  in  this  direction,  I  can  well  believe.  As 
yet  my  vision  is  too  feeble  to  penetrate  the  vail." 

"  If  you  look  steadily  in  this  direction,  your  eyes  will, 
in  time,  get  accustomed  to  the  light,  and  gradually  see 
clearer  and  clearer,"  said  Mrs.  Willet. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SOME  incidents  interrupted  the  conversation  at  this 
point,  and  when  it  flowed  on  again,  it  was  in  a  slightly 
varied  channel,  and  gradually  changed  from  the  abstract 
into  matters  of  more  personal  interest. 

"  What  a  mystery  is  life  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markland, 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  189 

the  words  following  an  observation  that  fell  from  the 
lips  of  Mr.  Willet. 

"Is  it  a  mystery  to  you?"  was  asked,  with  something 
of  surprise  in  the  questioner's  tone. 

"There  are  times,"  replied  Mrs.  Markland,  "when  I 
can  see  a  harmony,  an  order,  a  beauty  in  every  thing ; 
but  my  vision  does  not  always  remain  clear.  Ah !  if  we 
could  ever  be  content  to  do  our  duty  in  the  present,  and 
leave  results  to  Him  who  cares  for  us  with  an  infinite 
love!" 

"A  love,"  added  Mrs.  "Willet,  " that  acts  by  infinite 
wisdom.  Can  we  not  trust  these  fully  ?  Infinite  love 
and  infinite  wisdom  ?" 

"  Yes  ! — yes  ! — reason  makes  unhesitating  response. 
But  when  dark  days  come,  how  the  poor  heart  sinks ! 
Our  faith  is  strong  when  the  sky  is  bright.  We  can 
trust  the  love  and  wisdom  of  our  Maker  when  broad 
gleams  of  sunshine  lie  all  along  our  pathway." 

"  True ;  and  therefore  the  dark  days  come  to  us  as 
much  in  mercy  as  the  bright  ones,  for  they  show  us  that 
our  confidence  in  Heaven  is  not  a  living  faith.  '  There 
grows  much  bread  in  the  winter  night,'  is  a  proverb  full 
of  a  beautiful  significance.  Wheat,  or  bread,  is,  in  the 
outer  world  of  nature,  what  good  is  in  the  inner  world 
of  spirit.  And  as  well  in  the  winter  night  of  trial  and 
adversity  is  bread  grown,  as  in  the  winter  of  external 
nature.  The  bright  wine  of  truth  we  crush  from  purple 
clusters  in  genial  autumn ;  but  bread  grows  even  while 
the  vine  slumbers." 

"I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  "that,  in  the  lan 
guage  of  another,  *  sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity.'  I 


190  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

know  it  to  be  true,  that  good  gains  strength  and  roots 
itself  deeply  in  the  winter  of  affliction  and  adversity, 
that  it  may  grow  up  stronger,  and  produce  a  better  harvest 
in  the  end.  As  an  abstract  truth,  how  clear  this  is ! 
But,  at  the  first  chilling  blast,  how  the  spirit  sinks ;  and 
when  the  sky  grows  dull  and  leaden,  how  the  heart 
shivers!" 

"  It  is  because  we  rest  in  mere  natural  and  external 
things  as  the  highest  good." 

"  Yes — how  often  do  we  hear  that  remarked !  It  is 
the  preacher's  theme  on  each  recurring  Sabbath,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland,  in  an  abstracted  way.  "  How  often 
have  words  of  similar  import  passed  my  own  lips,  when 
I  spoke  as  a  mentor,  and  vainly  thought  my  own  heart 
was  not  wedded  to  the  world  and  the  good  things  it 
offers  for  our  enjoyment !" 

"If  we  are  so  wedded,"  said  Mrs.  Willet,  in  her 
earnest,  gentle  way,  "is  not  that  a  loving  Providence 
which  helps  us  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  even  though 
the  lesson  prove  a  hard  one  to  learn — nay,  even  if  it  be 
acquired  under  the  rod  of  a  stern  master  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  unhesitatingly. 

"It  is  undoubtedly  true,"  said  Mrs.  Willet,  "that 
all  things  of  natural  life  are  arranged,  under  Provi 
dence,  with  a  special  view  to  the  formation  and  develop 
ment  within  us  of  spiritual  life,  or  the  orderly  and  true 
lives  of  our  spirits.  We  are  not  born  into  this  world 
merely  to  eat,  drink,  and  enjoy  sensual  and  corporeal 
pleasures  alone.  This  is  clear  to  any  mind  on  the 
slightest  reflection.  The  pleasures  of  a  refined  taste, 
as  that  of  music  and  art,  are  of  a  higher  and  more 


THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING.  191 

enduring  character  than  these;  and  of  science  and 
knowledge,  still  more  enduring.  Yet  not  for  these,  as 
the  highest  development  of  our  lives,  were  we  born. 
Taste,  science,  knowledge,  even  intelligence,  to  which 
science  and  knowledge  open  the  door,  leave  us  still 
short  of  our  high  destiny.  The  Temple  of  Wisdom  is 
yet  to  be  penetrated." 

"  Science,  knowledge,  intelligence,  wisdom !"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  speaking  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  "  What 
a  beautiful  and  orderly  series  !  First  we  must  learn  the 
dead  formulas." 

"  Yes,  the  lifeless  scientifics,  if  they  may  so  be  called, 
must  first  be  grounded  in  the  memory.  Arrangement 
and  discrimination  follow.  One  fact  or  truth  is  com 
pared  with  another,  and  the  mind  thus  comes  to 
know,  or  has  knowledge.  Mere  facts  in  the  mind  are 
lifeless  without  thought.  Thought  broods  over  dead 
science  in  the  external  memory,  and  knowledge  is 
born." 

"  How  clear !  How  beautiful !"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Markland. 

"  But  knowledge  is  little  more  than  a  collection  of 
materials,  well  arranged  ;  intelligence  builds  the  house." 

"And  wisdom  is  the  inhabitant,"  said  Mrs.  Markland, 
•whose  quick  perceptions  were  running  in  advance. 

"Yes — all  that  preceded  was  for  the  sake  of  the 
inhabitant.  Science  is  first ;  then  knowledge,  then  in 
telligence — but  all  is  for  the  sake  of  wisdom." 

"Wisdom — wisdom."  Mrs.  Markland  mused  again. 
"What  is  wisdom?" 

"Angelic  life,"  said  Mrs.  Willet.     "One  who  has 


192  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

thought  and  written  much  on  heavenly  themes,  says, 
4  Intelligence  and  wisdom  make  an  angel.' ' 

Mrs.  Markland  sighed,  but  did  not  answer.  Some 
flitting  thought  seemed  momentarily  to  have  shadowed 
her  spirit. 

"  To  be  truly  wise  is  to  be  truly  good,"  said  Mrs. 
Willet.  "  We  think  of  angels  as  the  wisest  and  best  of 
beings,  do  we  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  The  highest  life,  then,  toward  which  we  can  aspire, 
is  angelic  life.  Their  life  is  a  life  of  goodness,  bodying 
itself  in  wisdom." 

"  How  far  below  angelic  life  is  the  natural  life  that  we 
are  leading  here !"  said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"And  therefore  is  it  that  a  new  life  is  prescribed, — a 
life  that  begins  in  learning  heavenly  truths  first,  as  mere 
external  formulas  of  religion.  These  are  to  be  elevated 
into  knowledge,  intelligence,  and  afterward  wisdom. 
And  it  is  because  we  are  so  unwilling  to  lead  this  hea 
venly  life  that  our  way  in  the  world  is  often  made  rough 
and  thorny,  and  our  sky  dark  with  cloud  and  tempest." 

Mr.  Willet  now  interrupted  the  conversation  by  a  re 
mark  that  turned  the  thoughts  of  all  from  a  subject 
which  he  felt  to  be  too  grave  for  the  occasion,  and  soon 
succeeded  in  restoring  a  brighter  hue  to  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Markland.  Soon  after,  the  visitors  returned  home, 
all  parties  feeling  happier  for  the  new  acquaintance 
which  had  been  formed,  and  holding  in  their  hearts 
a  cheerful  promise  of  many  pleasant  interchanges  of 
thought  and  feeling. 

Many  things  said  by  Mr.  Willet,  and  by  his  mother 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  193 

and  sisters,  made  a  strong  impression  on  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Markland  and  her  daughter.  They  perceived  some 
things  in  a  new  and  clearer  light  that  had  been  to  them 
vailed  in  obscurity  before. 

"  Flora  is  a  lovely  girl,"  said  Fanny,  "  and  so  wise 
beyond  her  years.  Many  times  I  found  myself  looking 
into  her  face  and  wondering  not  to  see  the  matron  there. 
We  are  fortunate  in  such  neighbours." 

"Very  fortunate,  I  think,"  replied  her  mother.  "I 
regard  them  as  having  minds  of  a  superior  order." 

"Flora  is  certainly  a  superior  girl.  And  she  seems 
to  me  as  good  as  she  is  wise.  Her  thought  appears  ever 
lifting  itself  upward,  and  there  is  a  world  of  new  ideas 
in  her  mind.  I  never  heard  any  one  talk  just  as  she  does. ' ' 

"What  struck  me  in  every  member  of  the  family," 
said  Mrs.  Markland,  "was  a  profound  religious  trust; 
a  full  confidence  in  tha,t  Infinite  Wisdom  which  cannot 
err,  nor  be  unkind.  Ah  !  my  daughter,  to  possess  that 
were  worth  more  than  all  this  world  can  oifer." 

A  servant  who  had  been  despatched  for  letters,  brought, 
late  in  the  day,  one  for  Mrs.  Markland  from  her  hus 
band,  and  one  for  Fanny  from  Mr.  Lyon.  This  was 
the  first  communication  the  latter  had  sent  to  Fanny 
direct  by  post.  The  maiden  turned  pale  as  she  received 
the  letter,  and  saw,  by  the  superscription,  from  whom  it 
came.  Almost  crushing  it  in  her  hand,  she  hurried 
away,  and  when  alone,  broke  the  seal,  and  with  unsteady 
hands  unfolded  it,  yet  scarcely  daring  to  let  her  eyes 
rest  upon  the  first  words : — 


"MY  EVER  DEAK  FANNY." — ["How  her  heart  leaped 

N  17 


194  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

as  she  read  these  words!] — "I  write  to  you  direct  by 
post,  for  there  remains  no  longer  any  reason  why  our 
correspondence  should  be  a  concealed  one.  I  have  also 
written  to  your  father,  and  shall  await  his  response  with 
the  deepest  anxiety.  Let  his  decision  in  the  matter  be 
what  it  may,  I  shall  forever  bear  your  image  in  my  heart 
as  a  most  sacred  possession.  Will  you  not  write  imme 
diately?  Conceal  nothing  of  the  effect  produced  on 
your  father's  mind.  Send  your  letter  as  addressed 
before,  and  it  will  be  forwarded  to  my  hands.  May 
heaven  bless  you,  dear  Fanny  !  In  haste,  suspense,  and 
deep  anxiety.  LEE  LYON." 

Mrs.  Markland's  letter  from  her  husband  was  very 
brief,  and  rather  vague  as  to  his  purposes  : 

"  I  will  be  home,  if  possible,  this  week ;  but  may  be 
kept  here,  by  important  business,  over  Sunday.  If  so, 
I  will  write  again.  Every  thing  is  progressing  to  my 
fullest  satisfaction.  Little  danger,  I  think,  of  my  dying 
from  ennui  in  the  next  twelve  months.  Head  and  hands 
will  both  be  pretty  well  occupied  for  that  period,  if  not 
longer.  There  is  too  much  vitality  about  me  for  the 
life  of  a  drone.  I  was  growing  restless  and  unhappy 
from  sheer  idleness  and  want  of  purpose.  How  does 
our  dear  Fanny  seem  ?  I  feel  no  little  concern  about 
her.  Mr.  Lyon  makes  no  direct  proposition  for  her 
hand,  but  it  is  evidently  his  purpose  to  do  so.  I  wish  I 
knew  him  better,  and  that  I  had,  just  now,  a  freer  mind 
to  consider  the  subject.  Weigh  it  well  in  your  thoughts, 
Agnes;  and  by  all  means  observe  Fanny  very  closely. 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  195 

Dear  child !  She  is  far  too  young  for  this  experience. 
Ah,  me !  The  more  I  think  of  this  matter,  the  more  I 
feel  troubled. 

"  But  good-by,  for  a  little  while.     I  am  writing  in 
haste,  and  cannot  say  half  that  is  in  my  thoughts." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IT  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  succeeding  week 
that  Mr.  Markland  returned  from  New  York.  He  had 
a  look  of  care  that  did  not  escape  the  observation  of  his 
wife.  To  her  inquiries  as  to  the  cause  of  his  prolonged 
absence,  he  replied  vaguely,  yet  with  reference  to  some 
business  of  vast  magnitude,  in  which  he  had  become 
interested.  Two  days  passed  without  allusion,  on  either 
side,  to  the  subject  of  their  daughter's  relation  to  Mr. 
Lyon,  and  then,  to  some  question  of  Mrs.  Markland, 
her  husband  replied  in  so  absent  a  way,  that  she  did  not 
press  the  matter  on  his  attention.  Fanny  was  reserved 
and  embarrassed  in  the  presence  of  her  father,  and 
evidently  avoided  him. 

More  than  a  week  went  by  in  this  unsatisfactory 
manner,  when,  on  returning  one  day  from  the  city,  Mr. 
Markland  showed  an  unusual  elation  of  spirits.  As 
soon  as  there  was  an  opportunity  to  be  alone  with  his 
wife,  he  said — 

"  I  may  have  to  be  absent  several  weeks." 

"Why  so?"  she  asked,  quickly,  as  a  shadow  fell  over 
her  face. 


196  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

"Business,"  was  briefly  answered. 

Mrs.  Markland  sighed,  and  her  eyes  fell  to  the  floor. 

"  I  have  been  a  drone  in  the  world's  busy  hive  long 
enough,  Agnes  ;  and  now  I  must  go  to  work  again,  and 
that  in  right  good  earnest.  The  business  that  took  me 
to  New  York  is  growing  daily  in  importance,  and  will 
require  my  best  thought  and  effort.  The  more  tho 
roughly  I  comprehend  it,  the  more  clearly  do  I  see  its 
vast  capabilities.  I  have  already  embarked  considerable 
money  in  the  enterprise,  and  shall  probably  see  it  to  my 
interest  to  embark  more.  To  do  this,  without  becoming 
an  active  worker  and  director,  would  neither  be  wise 
nor  like  your  husband,  who  is  not  a  man  to  trust  himself 
on  the  ocean  of  business  without  studying  well  the 
charts,  and,  at  times,  taking  fast  hold  upon  the  rudder." 

"You  might  have  been  so  happy  here,  Edward,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland,  looking  into  his  face  and  smiling  feebly. 

"  A  happy  idler  ?     Impossible  !" 

"  You  have  been  no  idler,  my  husband,  since  our  re 
tirement  from  the  city.  Look  around,  and  say  whose 
intelligence,  whose  taste,  are  visible  wherever  the  eye 
falls?" 

"  A  poor,  vain  life,  for  a  man  of  thought  and  energy, 
has  been  mine,  Agnes,  during  the  last  few  years.  The 
world  has  claims  on  me  beyond  that  of  mere  landscape- 
gardening  !  In  a  cultivation  of  the  beautiful  alone  no 
man  of  vigorous  mind  can  or  ought  to  rest  satisfied. 
There  is  a  goal  beyond,  and  it  is  already  dimly  revealed, 
in  the  far  distance,  to  my  straining  vision." 

"  I  greatly  fear,  Edward,"  replied  his  wife,  speaking 
in  her  gentle,  yet  impressive  way,  "  that  when  the  goal 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  197 

you  now  appear  so  eager  to  reach,  is  gained,  you  will 
see  still  another  beyond." 

"It  may  be  so,  Agnes,"  was  answered,  in  a  slightly 
depressed  voice ;  "  yet  the  impulse  to  bear  onward  to 
the  goal  now  in  view  is  not  the  less  ardent  for  the  sug 
gestion.  I  can  no  more  pause  than  the  avalanche  once 
in  motion.  I  must  onward  in  the  race  I  have  entered." 

"  To  gain  what,  Edward?" 

"  I  shall  gain  large  wealth." 

"  Have  we  not  all  things  here  that  heart  can  desire, 
my  husband?" 

"No,  Agnes,"  was  replied  with  emphasis. 

"What  is  lacking?" 

"  Contentment." 

"Edward!"  There  came  a  quick  flush  to  the  brow 
of  Mrs.  Markland. 

"I  cannot  help  the  fact,  Agnes,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 
"  For  months  I  have  suffered  from  a  growing  dissatis 
faction  with  the  fruitless  life  I  am  leading." 

"  And  yet  with  what  a  fond  desire  we  looked  forward 
to  the  time  when  we  could  call  a  spot  like  this  our  own ! 
The  world  had  for  us  no  more  tempting  offer." 

"  "While  struggling  up  from  the  valley,  we  cannot 
know  how  wide  the  landscape  will  spread  beneath  our 
enchanted  vision.  We  fix  our  eyes  on  the  point  to  be 
gained.  That  reached,  we  are,  for  a  time,  content  with 
our  elevation.  But  just  enough  of  valley  and  mountain, 
stretching  far  off  in  the  dim  distance,  is  revealed,  to 
quicken  our  desire  for  a  more  extended  vision,  and  soon, 
with  renewed  strength,  we  lift  our  gaze  upward,  and  the 

word   '  excelsior !'  comes  almost  unbidden  to  our  lips. 

17* 


198  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

There  is  a  higher  and  a  highest  place  to  be  gained,  and 
I  feel,  Agnes,  that  there  will  be  no  rest  for  my  feet  until 
I  reach  the  highest." 

"Pray  heaven  your  too  eager  feet  stumble  not!" 
almost  sobbed  Mrs.  Markland,  with  something  of  a 
prophetic  impulse. 

The  tone  and  manner  of  his  wife,  more  than  her 
words,  disturbed  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Why  should  the  fact  of  my  re-entering  business  so 
trouble  you?"  he  asked.  "An  active,  useful  life  is 
man's  truest  life,  and  the  only  one  in  which  he  can  hope 
for  contentment." 

Mrs.  Markland  did  not  answer,  but  partly  turned  her 
face  away  to  conceal  its  expression. 

"Are  you  not  a  little  superstitious?"  inquired  her 
husband. 

"I  believe  not,"  was  answered  with  forced  calmness. 
"But  I  may  be  very  selfish." 

"  Selfish,  Agnes  !     Why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  giving  you  up  to  the 
busy  world  again,"  she  answered,  tenderly,  leaning  her 
head  against  him.  "  Nor  will  it  be  done  without  strug 
gle  and  pain  on  my  part.  When  we  looked  forward  to 
the  life  we  have  been  leading  for  the  last  few  years,  I 
felt  that  I  could  ask  of  the  world  nothing  of  external 
good  beyond ;  I  have  yet  asked  nothing.  Here  I  have 
found  my  earthly  paradise.  But  if  banishment  must 
come,  I  will  try  to  go  forth  patiently,  even  though  I  can 
not  shut  the  fountain  of  tears.  There  is  another  Eden." 

Mr.  Markland  was  about  replying,  when  his  sister 
entered  the  room,  and  he  remained  silent. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  199 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  conversation  was  resumed  after  they  were  again 
alone. 

"  Grace  frets  herself  continually  about  Fanny,"  'said 
Mrs.  Markland,  as  her  sister-in-law,  after  remaining  for 
a  short  time,  arose  and  left  the  room. 

"  She  is  always  troubling  herself  about  something," 
answered  Mr.  Markland,  impatiently. 

"  Like  many  others,  she  generally  looks  at  the  shadowed 
side.  But  Fanny  is  so  changed,  that  not  to  feel  concern 
on  her  account  would  show  a  strange  indifference." 

Mr.  Markland  sighed  involuntarily,  but  made  no  an 
swer.  He,  too,  felt  troubled  whenever  his  thoughts 
turned  to  his  daughter.  Yet  had  he  become  so  absorbed 
in  the  new  business  that  demanded  his  attention,  and  in 
the  brilliant  results  which  dazzled  him,  that  to  think,  to 
any  satisfactory  conclusion,  on  the  subject  of  Fanny's 
relation  to  Mr.  Lyon,  had  been  impossible ;  and  this  was 
the  reason  why  he  rather  avoided  than  sought  a  confer 
ence  with  his  wife.  She  now  pressed  the  matter  on  his 
attention  so  closely,  that  he  could  not  waive  its  con 
sideration. 

"  Mr.  Lyon's  purposes  are  not  to  be  mistaken,"  said 
Mrs.  Markland. 

"In  what  respect?"  was  evasively  inquired. 

"  In  respect  to  Fanny." 

"I  think  not,"  was  the  brief  response. 


200  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Has  he  written  you  formally  on  the  subject?" 

"No." 

"  His  conduct,  then,  to  speak  in  the  mildest  terms,  is 
very  singular." 

"  His  relation  to  Fanny  has  been  an  exceedingly  em 
barrassing  one,"  said  Mr.  Markland.  "  There  has  been 
no  opportunity  for  him  to  speak  out  freely." 

"That  disability  no  longer  exists." 

"  True,  and  I  shall  expect  from  him  an  early  and 
significant  communication." 

"  Let  us  look  this  matter  directly  in  the  face,  Edward," 
said  Mrs.  Markland,  in  a  sober  voice.  "  Suppose  he  ask 
for  the  hand  of  our  daughter." 

"A  thing  not  at  all  unlikely  to  happen,"  answered 
her  husband. 

"What  then?" 

"  I  fear  you  are  prejudiced  against  Mr.  Lyon,"  said 
Markland,  a  little  coldly. 

"  I  love  my  child !"  was  the  simple,  touching  answer. 

"Well?" 

"I  am  a  woman,"  she  further  said,  "and  know  the 
wants  of  a  woman's  heart.  I  am  a  wife,  and  have  been 
too  tenderly  loved  and  cared  for,  not  to  desire  a  like 
happy  condition  for  my  child."  And  she  leaned  against 
her  husband,  and  gazed  into  his  face  with  a  countenance 
full  of  thankful  love. 

"Mr.  Lyon  is  a  man  of  honour,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Has  he  a  tender,  loving  heart  ?     Can  he  appreciate 
a  woman?" 
•  "  If  Fanny  loves  him " 

"Oh,   Edward!   Edward!"  returned  his  wife,  inter- 


THE   GOOD    TIME   COMING.  201 

rupting  him.  "  She  is  only  a  child,  and  yet  incapable 
of  genuine  love.  The  bewildering  passion  this  man  has 
inspired  in  her  heart  is  born  of  impulse,  and  the  fires 
that  feed  it  are  consuming  her.  As  for  me — and  I  speak 
the  words  thoughtfully  and  sadly — I  would  rather  stretch 
forth  my  hand  to  drop  flowers  on  her  coffin  than  deck 
her  for  such  a  bridal." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so  strongly,  Agnes  ?  You  know 
nothing  against  Mr.  Lyon.  He  may  be  all  you  could 
desire  in  the  husband  of  your  child." 

"  A  mother's  instincts,  believe  me,  Edward,  are  rarely 
at  fault  here." 

Mr.  Markland  was  oppressed  by  the  subject,  and 
could  not  readily  frame  an  answer  that  he  felt  would  be 
satisfactory  to  his  wife.  After  a  pause,  he  said : 

"  There  will  be  time  enough  to  form  a  correct  judg 
ment." 

"  But  let  us  look  the  matter  in  the  face  now,  Edward," 
urged  his  wife.  "  Suppose,  as  I  just  suggested,  he  ask 
for  the  hand  of  our  daughter, — a  thing,  as  you  admit, 
likely  to  happen.  What  answer  shall  we  make  ?  Are 
you  prepared  to  give  a  decisive  reply?" 

"  Not  on  the  instant.  I  should  wish  time  for  con 
sideration." 

"How  long?" 

"You  press  the  subject  very  closely,  Agnes." 

"  I  cannot  help  doing  so.  It  is  the  one  that  involves 
most  of  good  or  evil  in  the  time  to  come.  All  others 
are,  for  the  present,  dwarfed  by  it  into  insignificance. 
A  human  soul  has  been  committed  to  our  care,  capable 
of  the  highest  enjoyments  or  the  deepest  misery.  An 


202  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

error  on  our  part  may  prove  fatal  to  that  soul.  Think 
of  this,  Edward !  What  are  wealth,  honour,  eminence, 
in  comparison  with  the  destiny  of  a  single  human  soul? 
If  you  should  achieve  the  brilliant  results  that  now 
dazzle  your  eyes,  and  in  pursuit  of  which  you  are  ven 
turing  so  much,  would  there  be  any  thing  in  all  you 
gained  to  compensate  for  the  destruction  of  our  daugh 
ter's  happiness  ?" 

"  But  why  connect  things  that  have  no  relation, 
Agnes  ?  What  has  the  enterprise  I  am  now  prosecuting 
to  do  with  this  matter  of  our  daughter?" 

"  Much,  every  way.  Does  it  not  so  absorb  your  mind 
that  you  cannot  think  clearly  on  any  other  subject? 
And  does  not  your  business  connection  with  Mr.  Lyon 
bias  your  feelings  unduly  in  his  favour?" 

Mr.  Markland  shook  his  head. 

"  But  think  more  earnestly,  Edward.  Review  what 
this  man  has  done.  Was  it  honourable  for  him  so  to 
abuse  our  hospitality  as  to  draw  our  child  into  a  secret 
correspondence  ?  Surely  something  must  warp  your 
mind  in  his  favour,  or  you  would  feel  a  quick  indignation 
against  him.  He  cannot  be  a  true  man,  and  this  con 
viction  every  thing  in  regard  to  him  confirms.  Believe 
me,  Edward,  it  was  a  'dark  day  in  the  calendar  of  our 
lives  when  the  home  circle  at  Woodbine  Lodge  opened 
to  receive  him." 

"  I  trust  to  see  the  day,"  answered  Mr.  Markland, 
"  when  you  will  look  back  to  this  hour  and  smile  at  the 
vague  fears  that  haunted  your  imagination." 

"  Fears  ?  They  have  already  embodied  themselves 
in  realities,"  was  the  emphatic  answer.  "  The  evil  is 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  203 

upon  us,  Edward.  We  have  failed  to  guard  the  door  of 
our  castle,  and  the  enemy  has  come  in.  Ah,  my  hus 
band  !  if  you  could  see  with  my  eyes,  there  would  stand 
before  you  a  frightful  apparition." 

"And  what  shape  would  it  assume?"  asked  Mr. 
Markland,  affecting  to  treat  lightly  the  fears  of  his  wife. 

"  That  of  a  beautiful  girl,  with  white,  sunken  cheeks, 
and  hollow,  weeping  eyes." 

An  instant  paleness  overspread  the  face  of  Mr.  Mark- 
land. 

"  Look  there  !"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  suddenly,  drawing 
the  attention  of  her  husband  to  a  picture  on  the  wall. 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Markland  fell  instantly  on  a  portrait 
of  Fanny.  It  was  one  of  those  wonders  of  art  that 
transform  dead  colours  into  seeming  life,  and,  while  giv 
ing  to  every  lineament  a  faultless  reproduction,  heightens 
the  charm  of  each.  How  sweetly  smiled  down  upon 
Mr.  Markland  the  beautiful  lips  !  How  tender  were  the 
loving  eyes,  that  fixed  themselves  upon  him  and  held 
him  almost  spell-bound ! 

"  Dear  child  !"  he  murmured,  in  a  softened  voice,  and 
his  eyes  grew  so  dim  that  the  picture  faded  before  him. 

"As  given  to  us!"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  almost 
solemnly. 

A  dead  silence  followed. 

"  But  are  we  faithful  to  the  trust  ?  Have  we  guarded 
this  treasure  of  uncounted  value  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  Al 
ready  the  warm  cheeks  are  fading ;  the  eyes  are  blinded 
with  tears.  I  look  anxiously  down  the  vista  of  years, 
and  shudder.  Can  the  shadowy  form  I  see  be  that  of 
our  child?" 


204  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Oh,  Agnes !  Agnes !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Markland, 
lifting  his  hands,  and  partly  averting  his  face,  as  if  to 
avoid  the  sight  of  some  fearful  image. 

There  was  another  hushed  silence.  It  was  broken  by 
Mrs.  Markland,  who  grasped  the  hand  of  her  husband, 
and  said,  in  a  low,  impressive  voice — 

"  Fanny  is  yet  with  us — yet  in  the  sheltered  fold  of 
home,  though  her  eyes  have  wandered  beyond  its  happy 
boundaries  and  her  ears  are  hearkening  to  a  voice  that 
is  now  calling  her  from  the  distance.  Yet,  under  our 
loving  guardianship,  may  we  not  do  much  to  save  her 
from  consequences  my  fearful  heart  has  prophesied?" 

u  What  can  we  do  ?"  Mr.  Markland  spoke  with  the 
air  of  one  bewildered. 

"  Guard  her  from  all  further  approaches  of  this  man; 
at  least,  until  we  know  him  better.  There  is  a  power 
of  attraction  about  him  that  few  so  young  and  untaught 
in  the  world's  strange  lessons  as  our  child,  can  resist." 

"  He  attracts  strongly,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Markland, 
in  an  absent  way. 

"  And  therefore  the  greater  our  child's  danger,  if  he 
be  of  evil  heart." 

"You  wrong  him,  believe  me,  Agnes,  by  even  this 
intimation.  I  will  vouch  for  him  as  a  man  of  high  and 
honourable  principles."  Mr.  Markland  spoke  with  some 
warmth  of  manner. 

"  Oh,  Edward !  Edward !"  exclaimed  his  wife,  in  a 
distressed  voice.  "  What  has  so  blinded  you  to  the  real 
quality  of  this  man  ?  '  By  their  fruit  ye  shall  know 
them.'  And  is  not  the  first  fruit  we  have  plucked  from 
this  tree,  bitter  to  the  taste?" 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  205 

"You  are  excited  and  bewildered  in  thought,  Agnes," 
said  Mr.  Markland,  in  a  soothing  voice.  "  Let  us  waive 
this  subject  for  the  present,  until  both  of  us  can  refer 
to  it  with  a  more  even  heart-beat." 

Mrs.  Markland  caught  her  breath,  as  if  the  air  had 
suddenly  grown  stifling. 

"  Will  they  ever  beat  more  evenly  ?"  she  murmured, 
in  a  sad  voice. 

"  Why,  Agnes !  Into  what  a  strange  mood  you  have 
fallen!  You  are  not  like  yourself." 

"  And  I  am  not,  to  my  own  consciousness.  For  weeks 
it  has  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  were  in  a  troubled  dream." 

"  The  glad  waking  will  soon  come,  I  trust,"  said  Mr. 
Markland,  with  forced  cheerfulness  of  manner. 

"  I  pray  that  it  may  be  so,"  was  answered,  in  a  solemn 
voice. 

There  was  silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  the 
mother's  full  heart  overflowed.  Mr.  Markland  soothed 
her  with  tender,  hopeful  words,  calling  her  fears  idle, 
and  seeking,  by  many  forms  of  speech,  to  scatter  the 
doubts  and  fears  which,  like  thick  clouds,  had  encom 
passed  her  spirit. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FROM  that  period,  Mr.  Markland  not  only  avoided  all 
conference  with  his  wife  touching  their  daughter's  rela 
tion  to  Mr.  Lyon,  but  became  so  deeply  absorbed  in 

18 


206  THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

business  matters,  that  he  gave  little  earnest  thought  to 
the  subject.  As  the  new  interests  in  which  he  was  in 
volved  grew  into  larger  and  larger  importance,  all  things 
else  dwindled  comparatively. 

At  the  end  of  six  months  he  was  so  changed  that, 
even  to  his  own  family,  he  was  scarcely  like  the  same 
individual.  All  the  time  he  appeared  thinking  intensely. 
As  to  "  Woodbine  Lodge, "  its  beauties  no  longer  fell 
into  thought  or  perception.  The  charming  landscape 
spread  itself  wooingly  before  him,  but  he  saw  nothing 
of  its  varied  attractions.  Ear  away,  fixing  his  inward 
gaze  with  the  fascination  of  a  serpent's  eye,  was  the 
grand  result  of  his  new  enterprise,  and  all  else  was  ob 
scured  by  the  brightness  of  a  vortex  toward  which  he 
was  moving  in  swiftly-closing  circles.  Already  two- 
thirds  of  his  handsome  fortune  was  embarked  in  this 
new  scheme,  that  was  still  growing  in  magnitude,  and 
still,  like  the  horse-leech,  crying  "  Give  !  give  !"  All 
that  now  remained  was  "Woodbine  Lodge,"  valued  at 
over  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  This  property  he  de 
termined  to  leave  untouched.  But  new  calls  for  funds 
were  constantly  being  made  by  Mr.  Fenwick,  backed  by 
the  most  flattering  reports  from  Mr.  Lyon  and  his  asso 
ciates  in  Central  America,  and  at  last  the  question  of 
selling  or  heavily  mortgaging  the  "Lodge"  had  to  be 
considered.  The  latter  alternative  was  adopted,  and 
the  sum  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars  raised,  and  thrown, 
with  a  kind  of  desperation,  into  the  whirlpool  which  had 
already  swallowed  up  nearly  the  whole  of  his  fortune. 

With  this  sum  in  his  hands,  Mr.  Markland  went  to 
New  York.  He  found  the  Company's  agent,  Mr.  Fen- 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  207 

wick,  as  full  of  encouraging  words  and  sanguine  antici 
pations  as  ever. 

"The  prize  is  just  within  our  grasp,"  said  he,  in 
answer  to  some  close  inquiries  of  Markland.  "  There 
has  been  a  most  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  works,  and 
a  more  rapid  absorption  of  capital,  in  consequence,  than 
was  anticipated ;  but,  as  you  have  clearly  seen,  this  is 
far  better  than  the  snail-like  progress  at  which  affairs 
were  moving  when  Mr.  Lyon  reached  the  ground.  Re 
sults  which  will  now  crown  our  efforts  in  a  few  months, 
would  scarcely  have  been  reached  in  as  many  years." 

"  How  soon  may  we  reasonably  hope  for  returns  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Markland,  with  more  concern  in  his  voice 
than  he  meant  to  express. 

"In  a  few  months,"  was  answered. 

"  In  two,  three,  or  four  months  ?" 

"  It  is  difficult  to  fix  an  exact  period,"  said  Mr.  Fen- 
wick,  evasively.  "You  know  how  far  the  works  have 
progressed,  and  what  they  were  doing  at  the  latest 
dates." 

"  There  ought  to  be  handsome  returns  in  less  than  six 
months." 

"And  will  be,  no  doubt,"  replied  the  agent. 

"There  must  be,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  betraying 
some  excitement. 

Mr.  Fenwick  looked  at  him  earnestly,  and  with  a  slight 
manifestation  of  surprise. 

"  The  assessments  have  been  larger  and  more  frequent 
than  was  anticipated.  I  did  not  intend  embarking  more 
than  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  the  beginning,  and 
already  some  sixty  thousand  have  been  absorbed." 


208  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  To  return  you  that  sum,  twice  told,  in  less  than  a 
year,  besides  giving  you  a  position  of  power  and  influence 
that  the  richest  capitalist  in  New  York  might  envy." 

And,  enlarging  on  this  theme,  Fenwick,  as  on  former 
occasions,  presented  to  the  imagination  of  Mr.  Markland 
such  a  brilliant  series  of  achievements,  that  the  latter 
was  elevated  into  the  old  state  of  confidence,  and  saw 
the  golden  harvest  he  was  to  reap  already  bending  to 
the  sickle. 

Twice  had  Markland  proposed  to  visit  the  scene  of 
the  Company's  operations,  and  as  often  had  Mr.  Fenwick 
diverted  his  thoughts  from  that  direction.  He  again 
declared  his  purpose  to  go  out  at  an  early  date. 

"We  cannot  spare  you  from  our  councils  at  home," 
said  Mr.  Fenwick,  pleasantly,  yet  with  evident  earnest 
ness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can,"  was  promptly  answered.  "  I  do 
not  find  myself  of  as  much  use  as  I  desire  to  be.  The 
direction  at  this  point  is  in  good  enough  hands,  and  can 
do  without  my  presence.  It  is  at  the  chief  point  of 
operations  that  I  may  be  of  most  use,  and  thither  I  shall 
proceed." 

"  We  will  talk  more  about  that  another  time,"  said 
Mr.  Fenwick.  "  Now  we  must  discuss  the  question  of 
ways  and  means.  There  will  yet  be  many  thousand 
dollars  to  provide." 

"  Beyond  my  present  investment,  I  can  advance 
nothing,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  seriously. 

"It  will  not  be  necessary,"  replied  Mr.  Fenwick. 
"  The  credit  of  the  Company — that  is,  of  those  in  this 
and  other  cities,  including  yourself,  who  belong  to  the 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  209 

Company,  and  have  the  chief  management  of  its  affairs 
— is  good  for  all  we  shall  need." 

"I  am  rather  disappointed,"  said  Markland,  "at  the 
small  advances  made,  so  far,  from  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  They  ought  to  have  been  far  heavier.  We 
have  borne  more  than  our  share  of  the  burden." 

"  So  I  have  written,  and  expect  good  remittances  by 
next  steamers." 

"How  much?" 

"  Forty  or  fifty  thousand  dollars  at  least." 

"Suppose  the  money  does  not  come?" 

"  I  will  suppose  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  must  and 
will  come." 

"You  and  I  have  both  lived  long  enough  in  the 
•world,"  said  Markland,  "  to  know  that  our  wills  cannot 
always  produce  in  others  the  actions  we  desire." 

"  True  enough.  But  there  are  wills  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Atlantic  as  well  as  here,  and  wills  acting  in  con 
cert  with  ours.  Have  no  concern  on  this  head;  the 
English  advances  will  be  along  in  good  season.  In  the 
mean  time,  if  more  money  is  wanted,  our  credit  is  good 
to  almost  any  amount." 

This  proposition  in  regard  to  credit  was  no  mere 
temporary  expedient,  thought  of  at  the  time,  to  meet 
an  unexpected  contingency.  It  had  been  all  clearly 
arranged  in  the  minds  of  Fenwick  and  other  ruling 
spirits  in  New  York,  and  Markland  was  not  permitted 
to  leave  before  his  name,  coupled  with  that  of  "  some 
of  the  best  names  in  the  city,"  was  on  promissory 
notes  for  almost  fabulous  amounts. 

Taking  into  account  the  former  business  experience 
0  18* 


210  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

of  Mr.  Markland,  his  present  reckless  investments  and 
still  more  reckless  signing  of  obligations  for  large  sums, 
show  how  utterly  blind  his  perceptions  and  unsettled  his 
judgment  had  become.  The  waters  he  had  so  success 
fully  navigated  before  were  none  of  them  strange  waters. 
He  had  been  over  them  with  chart,  compass,  and  pilot, 
many  times  before  he  adventured  for  himself.  But  now, 
with  a  richly  freighted  argosy,  he  was  on  an  unknown 
sea.  Pleasantly  the  summer  breeze  had  wafted  him 
onward  for  a  season.  Spice-islands  were  passed,  and 
golden  shores  revealed  themselves  invitingly  in  the  dis 
tance.  The  haven  was -almost  gained,  when  along  the 
far  horizon  dusky  vapours  gathered  and  hid  the  pleasant 
land.  Darker  they  grew,  and  higher  they  arose,  until 
at  length  the  whole  sky  was  draped,  and  neither  sun  nor 
stars  looked  down  from  its  leaden  depths.  Yet  with  a 
desperate  courage  he  kept  steadily  onward,  for  the  record 
of  observations  since  the  voyage  began  was  too  imperfect 
to  serve  as  a  guide  to  return.  Behind  was  certain 
destruction ;  while  beyond  the  dark  obscurity,  the  golden 
land  of  promise  smiled  ever  in  the  glittering  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MR.  MARKLAND 's  determination  to  visit  the  scene  of 
the  Company's  operations  was  no  suddenly-formed  im 
pulse  ;  and  the  manifest  desire  that  he  should  not  do  so, 
exhibited  by  Mr.  Fenwick,  in  no  way  lessened  his  pur- 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  211 

pose  to  get  upon  the  ground  as  early  as  possible,  and 
see  for  himself  how  matters  were  progressing.  His 
whole  fortune  was  locked  up  in  this  new  enterprise,  and 
his  compeers  were  strangers,  or  acquaintances  of  a  recent 
date.  To  have  acted  with  so  much  blindness  was  unlike 
Markland ;  but  it  was  like  him  to  wish  to  know  all  about 
any  business  in  which  he  was  engaged.  This  knowledge 
he  had  failed  to  obtain  in  New  York.  There  his  imagi 
nation  was  constantly  dazzled,  and  while  he  remained 
there,  uncounted  treasure  seemed  just  ready  to  fall  at  his 
feet.  The  lamp  of  Aladdin  was  almost  within  his  grasp. 
But,  on  leaving  Fenwick  and  his  sanguine  associates,  a 
large  portion  of  his  enthusiasm  died  out,  and  his  mind 
reached  forth  into  the  obscurity  around  him  and  sought 
for  the  old  landmarks. 

On  returning  home  from  this  visit  to  New  York,  Mr. 
Markland  found  his  mind  oppressed  with  doubts  and 
questions  that  could  neither  be  removed  nor  answered 
satisfactorily.  His  entire  fortune,  acquired  through 
years  of  patient  labour,  was  beyond  his  reach,  and  might 
never  come  back  into  his  possession,  however  desperately 
he  grasped  after  it.  And  "Woodbine  Lodge," — its 
beauty  suddenly  restored  to  eyes  from  which  scales  had 
fallen — held  now  only  by  an  uncertain  tenure,  a  breath 
might  sweep  from  his  hand. 

Suddenly,  Markland  was  awakened,  as  if  from  a 
dream,  and  realized  the  actual  of  his  position.  It  was 
a  fearful  waking  to  him,  and  caused  every  nerve  in  his 
being  to  thrill  with  pain.  On  the  brink  of  a  gulf  he 
found  himself  standing,  and  as  he  gazed  down  into  its 
fearful  obscurity,  he  shuddered  and  grew  sick.  And 


212  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

now,  having  taken  the  alarm,  his  thoughts  became  active 
in  a  new  direction,  and  penetrated  beneath  surfaces 
which  hitherto  had  blinded  his  eyes  by  their  golden 
lustre.  Facts  and  statements  which  before  had  appeared 
favourable  and  coherent  now  presented  irreconcilable 
discrepancies,  and  he  wondered  at  the  mental  blindness 
which  had  prevented  his  seeing  things  in  their  present 
aspects. 

It  was  not  possible  for  a  man  of  Mr.  Markland's  pe 
culiar  temperament  and  business  experience  to  sit  down 
idly,  and,  with  folded  hands,  await  the  issue  of  this  great 
venture.  Now  that  his  fears  were  aroused,  he  could  not 
stop  short  of  a  thorough  examination  of  affairs,  and  that, 
too,  at  the  chief  point  of  operations,  which  lay  thousands 
of  miles  distant. 

Letters  from  Mr.  Lyon  awaited  his  return  from  New 
York.  They  said  little  of  matters  about  which  he  now 
most  desired  specific  information,  while  they  seemed  to 
communicate  a  great  many  important  facts  in  regard  to 
the  splendid  enterprise  in  which  they  were  engaged. 
Altogether,  they  left  no  satisfactory  impression  on  his 
mind.  One  of  them,  bearing  a  later  date  than  the  rest, 
disturbed  him  deeply.  It  was  the  first,  for  some  months, 
in  which  allusion  was  made  to  his  daughter.  The  closing 
paragraph  of  this  letter  ran  thus  : — 

"  I  have  not  found  time,  amid  this  pressure  of  business, 
to  write  a  word  to  your  daughter  for  some  weeks.  Say 
to  her  that  I  ever  bear  her  in  respectful  remembrance, 
and  shall  refer  to  the  days  spent  at  Woodbine  Lodge  as 
among  the  brightest  of  my  life." 

There  had  been  no  formal  application  for  the  hand  of 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  213 

his  daughter  up  to  this  time ;  yet  had  it  not  crossed  the 
thought  of  Markland  that  any  other  result  would  follow ; 
for  the  relation  into  which  Lyon  had  voluntarily  brought 
himself  left  no  room  for  honourable  retreat.  His  letters 
to  Fanny  more  than  bound  him  to  a  pledge  of  his  hand. 
They  were  only  such  as  one  bearing  the  tenderest  affec 
tion  might  write. 

Many  weeks  had  elapsed  since  Fanny  received  a  letter, 
and  she  was  beginning  to  droop  under  the  long  suspense. 
None  came  for  her  now,  and  here  was  the  cold,  brief 
reference  to  one  whose  heart  was  throbbing  toward  him, 
full  of  love. 

Markland  was  stung  by  this  evasive  reference  to  his 
daughter,  for  its  meaning  he  clearly  understood.  Not 
that  he  had  set  his  heart  on  an  alliance  of  Fanny  with 
this  man,  but,  having  come  to  look  upon  such  an  event 
as  almost  certain,  and  regarding  all  obstacles  in  the  way 
as  lying  on  his  side  of  the  question,  pride  was  severely 
shocked  by  so  unexpected  a  show  of  indiiference.  And 
its  exhibition  was  the  more  annoying,  manifested,  as  it 
was,  just  at  the  moment  when  he  had  become  most  pain 
fully  aware  that  all  his  worldly  possessions  were  beyond 
his  control,  and  might  pass  from  his  reach  forever. 

"Can  there  be  such  baseness  in  the  man?"  he  ex 
claimed,  mentally,  with  bitterness,  as  the  thought  flitted 
through  his  mind  that  Lyon  had  deliberately  inveigled 
him,  and,  having  been  an  instrument  of  his  ruin,  now 
turned  from  him  with  cold  indifference. 

"  Impossible !"  he  replied,  aloud,  to  the  frightful  con 
jecture.  "  I  will  not  cherish  the  thought  for  a  single 
moment." 


214  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

But  a  suggestion  like  this,  once  made  to  a  man  in  his 
circumstances,  is  not  to  be  cast  out  of  the  mind  by  a 
simple  act  of  rejection.  It  becomes  a  living  thing,  and 
manifests  its  perpetual  presence.  Turn  his  thought 
from  it  as  he  would,  back  to  that  point  it  came,  and  the 
oftener  this  occurred,  the  more  corroborating  suggestions 
arrayed  themselves  by  its  side. 

Mr.  Markland  was  alone  in  the  library,  with  Mr. 
Lyon's  hastily  read  letters  before  him,  and  yet  ponder 
ing,  with  an  unquiet  spirit,  the  varied  relations  in  which 
he  had  become  placed,  when  the  door  was  quietly  pushed 
open,  and  he  heard  light  footsteps  crossing  the  room. 
Turning,  he  met  the  anxious  face  of  his  daughter,  who, 
no  longer  able  to  bear  the  suspense  that  was  torturing 
her,  had  overcome  all  shrinking  maiden  delicacy,  and 
now  came  to  ask  if,  enclosed  in  either  of  his  letters,  was 
one  for  her.  She  advanced  close  to  where  he  was  sitting, 
and,  as  he  looked  at  her  with  a  close  observation,  he 
saw  that  her  countenance  was  almost  colourless,  her  lips 
rigid,  and  her  heart  beating  with  an  oppressed  motion, 
as  if  half  the  blood  in  her  body  had  flowed  back  upon  it. 

"Fanny,  dear!"  said  Mr.  Markland,  grasping  her 
hand  tightly.  As  he  did  so,  she  leaned  heavily  against 
him,  while  her  eyes  ran  eagerly  over  the  table. 

Two  or  three  times  she  tried  to  speak,  but  was  unable 
to  articulate. 

"  What  can  I  say  to  you,  love  ?"  Her  father  spoke 
in  a  low,  sad,  tender  voice,  that  to  her  was  prophetic  of 
the  worst. 

"Is  there  a  letter  for  me?"  she  asked,  in  a  husky 
whisper. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  215 

"No,  dear." 

He  felt  her  whole  frame  quiver  as  if  shocked. 

"  You  have  heard  from  Mr.  Lyon  ?"  She  asked  this 
after  the  lapse  of  a  few  moments,  raising  herself  up  as 
she  spoke,  and  assuming  a  calmness  of  exterior  that  was 
little  in  accord  with  the  tumult  within. 

"  Yes.     I  have  three  letters  of  different  dates." 

"  And  none  for  me  ?" 

"None." 

"  Has  he  not  mentioned  my  name  ?" 

A  moment  Mr.  Markland  hesitated,  and  then  an 
swered — 

"Yes." 

He  saw  a  slight,  quick  flush  mantle  her  face,  that 
grew  instantly  pale  again. 

"Will  you  read  to  me  what  he  says ?" 

"  If  you  wish  me  to  do  so."  Mr.  Markland  said  this 
almost  mechanically. 

"Read  it."  And  as  her  father  took  from  the  table  a 
letter,  Fanny  grasped  his  arm  tightly,  and  then  stood 
with  the  immovable  rigidity  of  a  statue.  She  had  al 
ready  prophesied  the  worst.  The  cold,  and,  to  her,  cruel 
words,  were  like  chilling  ice-drops  on  her  heart.  She 
listened  to  the  end,  and  then,  with  a  low  cry,  fell  against 
her  father,  happily  unconscious  of  further  suffering.  To 
her  these  brief  sentences  told  the  story  of  unrequited 
love.  How  tenderly,  how  ardently  he  had  written  a 
few  months  gone  by !  and  now,  after  a  long  silence,  he 
makes  to  her  a  mere  incidental  allusion,  and  asks  a 
"respectful  remembrance!"  She  had  heard  the  knell 
of  all  her  dearest  hopes.  Her  love  had  become  almost  her 


216  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

life,  and  to  trample  thus  upon  it  was  like  extinguishing 
her  life. 

"  Fanny  !  Love !  Dear  Fanny  !"  But  the  distressed 
father  called  to  her  in  vain,  and  in  vain  lifted  her  nerve 
less  body  erect.  The  oppressed  heart  was  stilled. 

A  cry  of  alarm  quickly  summoned  the  family,  and 
for  a  short  time  a  scene  of  wild  terror  ensued ;  for,  in 
the  white  face  of  the  fainting  girl,  all  saw  the  image 
of  death.  A  servant  was  hurriedly  despatched  for 
their  physician,  and  the  body  removed  to  one  of  the 
chambers. 

But  motion  soon  came  back,  feebly,  to  the  heart ;  the 
lungs  drew  in  the  vital  air,  and  the  circle  of  life  was 
restored.  When  the  physician  arrived,  nature  had  done 
all  for  her  that  could  be  done.  The  sickness  of  her 
spirit  was  beyond  the  reach  of  any  remedy  he  might 
prescribe. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  shock  received  by  Fanny  left  her  in  a  feeble 
state  of  mind  as  well  as  body.  For  two  or  three  days 
she  wept  almost  constantly.  Then  a  leaden  calmness, 
bordering  on  stupor,  ensued,  that,  even  more  than  her 
tears,  distressed  her  parents. 

Meantime,  the  anxieties  of  Mr.  Markland,  in  regard  to 
the  business  in  which  he  had  ventured  more  than  all  his 
possessions,  were  hourly  increasing.  Now  that  suspicion 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  217 

had  been  admitted  into  his  thought,  circumstances  which 
had  before  given  him  encouragement  bore  a  doubtful 
aspect.  He  was  astonished  at  his  own  blindness,  and 
frightened  at  the  position  in  which  he  found  himself 
placed.  Altogether  dissatisfied  with  the  kind  and  amount 
of  information  to  be  gained  in  New  York,  his  resolution 
to  go  South  was  strengthened  daily.  Finally,  he  an 
nounced  to  his  family  that  he  must  leave  them,  to  be  gone 
at  least  two  or  three  months.  The  intelligence  came  with 
a  shock  that  partially  aroused  Fanny  from  the  lethargic 
state  into  which  she  had  fallen.  Mrs.  Markland  made 
only  a  feeble,  tearful  opposition.  Upon  her  mind  had 
settled  a  brooding  apprehension  of  trouble  in  the  future, 
and  every  changing  aspect  in  the  progression  of  events  but 
confirmed  her  fears. 

That  her  husband's  mind  had  become  deeply  dis 
turbed  Mrs.  Markland  saw  but  too  clearly ;  and  that  this 
disturbance  increased  daily,  she  also  saw.  Of  the  causes 
she  had  no  definite  information  ;  but  it  was  not  difficult  to 
infer  that  they  involved  serious  disappointments  in  regard 
to  the  brilliant  schemes  which  had  so  captivated  his  imagi 
nation.  If  these  disappointments  had  thrown  him  back 
upon  his  home,  better  satisfied  with  the  real  good  in 
possession,  she  would  not  very  much  have  regretted  them. 
But,  on  learning  his  purpose  to  go  far  South,  and  even 
thousands  of  miles  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his  own 
country,  she  became  oppressed  with  a  painful  anxiety, 
which  was  heightened,  rather  than  allayed,  by  his 
vague  replies  to  all  her  earnest  inquiries  in  regard  to 
the  state  of  affairs  that  rendered  this  long  journey  im 
perative. 

19 


218  THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

"  Interests  of  great  magnitude,"  he  would  say,  "  require 
that  all  who  are  engaged  in  them  should  be  minutely 
conversant  with  their  state  of  progress.  I  have  long 
enough  taken  the  statements  of  parties  at  a  distance  : 
now  I  must  see  and  know  for  myself." 

How  little  there  was  in  all  this  to  allay  anxiety,  or  re 
concile  the  heart  to  a  long  separation  from  its  life-partner, 
is  clear  to  every  one.  Mrs.  Markland  saw  that  her  hus 
band  wished  to  conceal  from  Her  the  exact  position  of  his 
affairs,  and  "this  but  gave  her  startled  imagination  power 
to  conjure  up  the  most  frightful  images.  Fears  for  the 
safety  of  her  husband  during  a  long  journey  in  a  distant 
country,  where  few  traces  of  civilization  could  yet  be 
found,  were  far  more  active  than  concern  for  the  result  of 
his  business.  Of  that  she  knew  but  little ;  and,  so  far  as  its 
success  or  failure  had  power  to  affect  her,  experienced  but 
little  anxiety.  On  this  account,  her  trouble  was  all  for  him. 

Time  progressed  until  the  period  of  Mainland's  depart 
ure  was  near  at  hand.  He  had  watched,  painfully,  the 
slow  progress  of  change  in  Fanny's  state  of  mind.  There 
was  yet  no  satisfactory  aspect.  The  fact  of  his  near 
departure  had  ruffled  the  surface  of  her  feelings,  and  given 
a  hectic  warmth  to  her  cheeks  and  a  tearful  brightness 
to  her  eyes.  Most  earnestly  had  she  entreated  him,  over 
and  over  again,  not  to  leave  them. 

"  Home  will  no  longer  be  like  home,  dear  father,  when 
you  are  far  absent,"  she  said  to  him,  pleadingly,  a  few 
days  before  the  appointed  time  for  departure  had  come. 
"Do  not  go  away." 

"  It  is  no  desire  to  leave  home  that  prompts  the  journey, 
Fanny,  love,"  he  answered,  drawing  his  arm  around  her 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          219 

and  pressing  her  closely  to  his  side.  "  At  the  call  of 
duty,  none  of  us  should  hesitate  to  obey." 

"Duty,  father?"  Fanny  did  not  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  his  words. 

"It  is  the  duty  of  all  men  to  thoroughly  comprehend 
what  they  are  doing,  and  to  see  that  their  business  is  well 
conducted  at  every  point." 

"  I  did  not  before  understand  that  you  had  business  in 
that  distant  country,"  said  Fanny. 

"I  am  largely  interested  there,"  replied  Mr.  Markland, 
speaking  as  though  the  admission  to  her  was  half-extorted. 

"  Not  with  Mr.  Lyon,  I  hope?"  said  Fanny,  quickly 
and  earnestly.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  mentioned 
his  name  since  the  day  his  cold  allusion  to  her  had  nearly 
palsied  her  heart. 

"  Why  not  with  Mr.  Lyon,  my  child  ?  Do  you  know 
any  thing  in  regard  to  him  that  would  make  such  a  con 
nection  perilous  to  my  interest  ?"  Mr.  Markland  looked 
earnestly  into  the  face  of  his  daughter.  Her  eyes  did 
not  fall  from  his,  but  grew  brighter,  and  her  person  be 
came  more  erect.  There  was  something  of  indignant 
surprise  in  the  expression  of  her  countenance. 

"  Do  you  know  any  thing  in  regard  to  him  that  would 
make  the  connection  perilous  to  my  interest?"  repeated 
Mr.  Markland. 

"  Will  that  man  be  true  to  the  father,  who  is  false  to 
his  child  ?"  said  Fanny,  in  a  deep,  hoarse  voice. 

He  looked  long  and  silently  into  her  face,  his  mind 
bewildered  by  the  searching  interrogatory. 

"False  to  you,  Fanny!"  he  at  length  said,  in  a  con 
fused  way.  "  Has  he  been  false  to  you  ?" 


220  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Oh,  father  !  father  !  And  is  it  from  you  this  question 
comes?"  exclaimed  Fanny,  clasping  her  hands  together 
and  then  pressing  them  tightly  against  her  bosom. 

"  He  spoke  of  you  in  his  letter  with  great  kindness," 
said  Mr.  Markland.  "  I  know  that  he  has  been  deeply 
absorbed  in  a  perplexing  business ;  and  this  may  be  the 
reason  why  he  has  not  written." 

"  Father," — Fanny's  words  were  uttered  slowly  and 
impressively — "  if  you  are  in  any  manner  involved  in 
business  with  Mr.  Lyon — if  you  have  any  thing  at  stake 
through  confidence  in  him — get  free  from  the  connection 
as  early  as  possible.  He  is  no  true  man.  With  the 
fascinating  qualities  of  the  serpent,  he  has  also  the  power 
to  sting." 

"I  fear,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  "that 
too  great  a  revulsion  has  taken  place  in  your  feelings 
toward  him ;  that  wounded  pride  is  becoming  unduly 
active." 

"Pride  !"  ejaculated  Fanny — and  her  face,  that  had 
flushed,  grew  pale  again — "  pride  !  Oh,  father !  how  sadly 
you  misjudge  your  child!  No — no.  I  was  for  months  in 
the  blinding  mazes  of  a  delicious  dream  ;  but  I  am  awake 
now — fully  awake,  and  older — how  much  older  it  makes 
me  shudder  to  think — than  I  was  when  lulled  into  slumber 
by  melodies  so  new,  and  wild,  and  sweet,  that  it  seemed 
as  if  I  had  entered  another  state  of  existence.  Yes,  fa 
ther,  I  am  awake  now  ;  startled  suddenly  from  visions  of 
joy  and  beauty  into  icy  realities,  like  thousands  of  other 
dreamers  around  me.  Pride  ?  Oh,  my  father  !" 

And  Fanny  laid  her  head  down  upon  the  breast  of  her 
parent,  and  wept  bitterly. 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  221 

Mr.  Markland  was  at  a  loss  what  answer  to  make. 
So  entire  a  change  in  the  feelings  of  his  daughter  toward 
Mr.  Lyon  was  unsuspected,  and  he  scarcely  knew  how 
to  explain  the  fact.  Fascinated  as  she  had  been,  he  had 
looked  for  nothing  else  but  a  clinging  to  his  image  even 
in  coldness  and  neglect.  That  she  would  seek  to  oblite 
rate  that  image  from  her  heart,  as  an  evil  thing,  was  some 
thing  he  had  not  for  an  instant  expected.  He  did  not 
know  how,  treasured  up  in  tenderest  infancy,  through 
sunny  childhood,  and  in  sweetly  dawning  maidenhood, 
innocence  and  truth  had  formed  for  her  a  talisman  by 
which  the  qualities  of  others  might  be  tested.  At  the  first 
approach  of  Mr.  Lyon  this  had  given  instinctive  warning  ; 
but  his  personal  attractions  were  so  great,  and  her  father's 
approving  confidence  of  the  man  so  strong,  that  the  inward 
monitor  was  unheeded.  But,  after  a  long  silence  follow 
ing  a  series  of  impassioned  letters,  to  find  herself  alluded 
to  in  this  cold  and  distant  way  revealed  a  state  of  feeling 
in  the  man  she  loved  so  wildly,  that  proved  him  false  be 
yond  all  question.  Like  one  standing  on  a  mountain-top, 
who  suddenly  finds  the  ground  giving  way  beneath  his  feet, 
she  felt  herself  sweeping  down  through  a  fearfully  inter 
vening  space,  and  fell,  with  scarcely  a  pulse  of  life  re 
maining,  on  the  rocky  ground  beneath.  She  caught  at 
no  object  in  her  quick  descent,  for  none  tempted  her  hand. 
It  was  one  swift  plunge,  and  the  shock  was  over. 

"No,  father,"  she  said,  in  a  calmer  voice,  lifting  her 
face  from  his  bosom — "  it  is  not  pride,  nor  womanly 
indignation  at  a  deep  wrong.  I  speak  of  him  as  he  is 
now  known  to  me.  Oh,  beware  of  him !  Let  not  his 

shadow  fall  darker  on  our  household." 
19* 


222  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

The  effect  of  this  conversation  in  no  way  quieted  the 
apprehensions  of  Mr.  Markland,  but  made  his  anxieties 
the  deeper.  That  Lyon  had  been  false  to  his  child  was 
clear  even  to  him ;  and  the  searching  questions  of  Fanny 
he  could  not  banish  from  his  thoughts. 

"All  things  confirm  the  necessity  of  my  journey,"  he 
said,  when  alone,  and  in  close  debate  with  himself  on  the 
subject.  "  I  fear  that  I  am  in  the  toils  of  a  serpent, 
and  that  escape,  even  with  life,  is  doubtful.  By  what  a 
strange  infatuation  I  have  been  governed  !  Alas  !  into 
what  a  fearful  jeopardy  have  I  brought  the  tangible  good 
things  given  me  by  a  kind  Providence,  by  grasping  at 
what  dazzled  my  eyes  as  of  supremely  greater  value ! 
Have  I  not  been  lured  by  a  shadow,  forgetful  of  the 
substance  in  possession?" 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"I  SHOULD  have  been  contented  amid  so  much  beauty, 
and  with  even  more  than  my  share  of  earthly  blessings." 
Thus  Mr.  Markland  communed  with  himself,  walking 
about  alone,  near  the  close  of  the  day  preceding  that  on 
which  his  appointed  journey  was  to  begin.  "Am  I  not 
acting  over  again  that  old  folly  of  the  substance  and 
shadow  ?  Verily,  I  believe  it  is  so.  Ah  !  will  we  ever 
be  satisfied  with  any  achievement  in  this  life  ?  To-mor 
row  I  leave  all  by  which  I  am  here  surrounded,  and 
more,  a  thousand-fold  more — my  heart's  beloved  ones ; 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  223 

and  for  what  ?  To  seek  the  fortune  I  was  mad  enough 
to  cast  from  me  into  a  great  whirlpool,  believing  that  it 
would  be  thrown  up  at  my  feet  again,  with  every  disk 
of  gold  changed  into  a  sparkling  diamond.  I  have  waited 
eagerly  on  the  shore  for  the  returning  tide,  but  yet  there 
is  no  reflux,  and  now  my  last  hope  rests  on  the  diver's 
strength  and  doubtful  fortune.  I  must  make  the  fear 
ful  plunge." 

A  cold  shudder  ran  through  the  frame  of  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  as  he  realized,  too  distinctly,  the  image  he  had 
conjured  up.  A  feeling  of  weakness  and  irresolution 
succeeded. 

"  Ah !"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "  if  all  had  not  been 
so  blindly  cast  upon  this  venture,  I  might  be  willing  to 
wait  the  issue,  providing  for  the  worst  by  a  new  disposi 
tion  of  affairs,  and  by  new  efforts  here.  But  I  was  too 
eager,  too  hopeful,  too  insanely  confident.  Every  thing 
is  now  beyond  my  reach." 

This  was  the  state  of  his  mind  when  Mr.  Allison, 
whom  he  had  not  met  in  a  familiar  manner  for  several 
weeks,  joined  him,  saying,  as  he  came  up  with  extended 
hand,  and  fine  face,  bright  with  the  generous  interest  in 
others  that  always  burned  in  his  heart — 

"What  is  this  I  hear,  Mr.  Markland?  Is  it  true  that 
you  are  going  away,  to  be  absent  for  some  months  ?  Mr. 
Willet  was  telling  me  about  it  this  morning." 

"It  is  too  true,"  replied  Mr.  Markland,  assuming  a 
cheerful  air,  yet  betraying  much  of  the  troubled  feeling 
that  oppressed  him.  "  The  calls  of  business  cannot  always 
be  disregarded." 

"  No — but,  if  I  understand  aright,  you  contemplate 


224  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

going  a  long  distance  South — somewhere  into  Central 
America." 

"  Such  is  my  destination.  Having  been  induced  to 
invest  money  in  a  promising  enterprise  in  that  far-off 
region,  it  is  no  more  than  right  to  look  after  my  inte 
rests  there." 

"  With  so  much  to  hold  your  thoughts  and  interests 
here,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "I  can  hardly  understand  why 
you  should  let  them  wander  off  so  far  from  home." 

"And  I  can  hardly  understand  it  myself,"  returned 
Mr.  Markland,  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  as  if  the  admis 
sion  were  made  reluctantly.  "  But  so  it  is.  I  am  but 
a  man,  and  man  is  always  dissatisfied  with  his  actual, 
and  always  looking  forward  to  some  good  time  coming. 
Ah,  sir,  this  faculty  of  imagination  that  we  possess  is 
one  of  the  curses  entailed  by  the  fall.  It  is  forever 
leading  us  off  from  a  true  enjoyment  of  what  we  have. 
It  has  no  faith  in  to-day — no  love  for  the  good  and 
beautiful  that  really  exists." 

"  I  can  show  you  a  person  whose  imagination  plays 
no  truant  pranks  like  this,"  replied  Mr.  Allison.  "And 
this  shall  be  at  least  one  exception  to  your  rule." 

44 Name  that  person,"  was  the  half-incredulous  re 
sponse. 

"Your  excellent  wife,"  said  Mr.  Allison. 

For  some  moments  Mr.  Markland  stood  with  his  eyes 
cast  down ;  then,  lifting  them  to  the  face  of  the  old  man, 
he  said : 

"  The  reference  is  true.  But,  if  she  be  not  the  only 
exception,  the  number  who,  like  her,  can  find  the  best 
reward  in  the  present,  are,  alas  !  but  few." 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  225 

"  If  not  found  in  the  present,  Mr.  Markland,  will  it 
ever  be  found?  Think!" 

"Never!"  There  was  an  utterance  of  grief  in  the 
deep  tone  that  thus  responded — for  conviction  had  come 
like  a  quick  flash  upon  his  heart. 

"But  who  finds  it,  Mr.  Allison?"  he  said,  shortly 
after,  speaking  with  stern  energy.  "Who  comprehends 
the  present  and  the  actual?  who  loves  it  sufficiently? 
Ah,  sir !  is  the  present  ever  what  a  fond,  cheating  ima 
gination  prefigured  it?" 

"And  knowing  this  so  well,"  returned  the  old  man, 
"was  it  wise  for  you  to  build  so  largely  on  the  future 
as  you  seem  to  have  done  ?" 

"No,  it  was  not  wise."  The  answer  came  with  a 
bitter  emphasis. 

"We  seek  to  escape  the  restlessness  of  unsatisfied 
desire,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "  by  giving  it  more  stimulating 
food,  instead  of  firmly  repressing  its  morbid  activities'. 
Think  you  not  that  there  is  something  false  in  the  life 
we  are  leading  here,  when  we  consider  how  few  and 
brief  are  the  days  in  which  we  experience  a  feeling  of 
rest  and  satisfaction  ?  And  if  our  life  be  false — or,  in 
other  words,  our  life-purposes — what  hope  for  us  is  there 
in  any  change  of  pursuit  or  any  change  of  scene  ?" 

"None — none,"  replied  Mr.  Markland. 

"We  may  look  for  the  good  time  coming,  but  look  in 
vain.  Its  morning  will  never  break  over  the  distant 
mountain-tops  to  which  our  eyes  are  turned." 

"Life  is  a  mockery,  a  cheating  dream!"  said  Mr. 
Markland,  bitterly. 

"Not  so,  my  friend,"  was  the  calmly  spoken  answer. 
P 


226  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

"Not  so.  Our  life  here  is  the  beginning  of  an  immor 
tal  life.  But,  to  be  a  happy  life,  it  must  be  a  true  one. 
All  its  activities  must  have  an  orderly  pulsation." 

Mr.  Markland  slowly  raised  a  hand,  and,  pressing  it 
strongly  against  his  forehead,  stood  motionless  for  some 
moments,  his  mind  deeply  abstracted. 

"My  thoughts  flow  back,  Mr.  Allison,"  he  said,  at 
length,  speaking  in  a  subdued  tone,  "  to  a  period  many 
months  gone  by,  and  revives  a  conversation  held  with 
you,  almost  in  this  very  place.  What  you  then  said 
made  a  strong  impression  on  my  mind.  I  saw,  in  clear 
light,  how  vain  were  all  efforts  to  secure  happiness  in 
this  world,  if  made  selfishly,  and  thus  in  a  direction  con 
trary  to  true  order.  The  great  social  man  I  recognised 
as  no  mere  idealism,  but  as  a  verity.  I  saw  myself  a 
member  of  this  body,  and  felt  deeply  the  truth  then 
uttered  by  you,  that  just  in  proportion  as  each  member 
thinks  of  and  works  for  himself  alone  will  that  indi 
vidual  be  working  in  selfish  disorder,  and,  like  the  mem 
ber  of  the  human  body  that  takes  more  than  its  share 
of  blood,  must  certainly  suffer  the  pain  of  inflammation. 
The  truth  then  presented  to  my  mind  was  like  a  flood 
of  light ;  but  I  did  not  love  the  truth,  and  shut  my 
eyes  to  the  light  that  revealed  more  than  I  wished  to 
know.  Ah,  sir !  if  I  could  have  accepted  all  you  then 
advanced — if  I  could  have  overcome  the  false  principle 
of  self-seeking  then  so  clearly  shown  to  be  the  curse  of 
life — I  would  not  have  involved  myself  in  business  that 
must  now  separate  me  for  months  from  my  home  and 
family." 

"And  should  you  achieve  all  that  was  anticipated  in 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  227 

the  beginning,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "I  doubt  if  you  will 
find  pleasure  enough  in  the  realization  to  compensate 
for  this  hour  of  pain,  to  say  nothing  of  what  you  are 
destined  to  suffer  during  the  months  of  separation  that 
are  before  you." 

"Your  doubts  are  my  own,"  replied  Markland,  mu 
singly.  "But," — and  he  spoke  in  a  quicker  and  lighter 
tone, — "  this  is  all  folly  !  I  must  go  forward,  now,  to  the 
end.  Why,  then,  yield  to  unmanly  weakness  ?" 

"  True,  sir,"  returned  the  old  man.  "  No  matter  how 
difficult  the  way  in  which  our  feet  must  walk,  the  path 
must  be  trodden  bravely." 

"I  shall  learn  some  lessons  of  wisdom  by  this  experi 
ence,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  "that  will  go  with  me  through 
life.  But,  I  fear,  they  will  be  all  too  dearly  purchased." 

"Wisdom,"  was  the  answer,  "is  a  thing  of  priceless 
value." 

"It  is  sometimes  too  dearly  bought,  for  all  that." 

"Never,"  replied  the  old  man, — "never.  Wisdom  is 
the  soul's  true  riches ;  and  there  is  no  worldly  possession 
that  compares  with  it  in  value.  If  you  acquire  wisdom 
by  any  experience,  no  matter  how  severe  it  may  prove, 
you  are  largely  the  gainer.  And  here  is  the  compensa 
tion  in  every  affliction,  in  every  disappointment,  and  in 
every  misfortune.  We  may  gather  pearls  of  wisdom 
from  amid  the  ashes  and  cinders  of  our  lost  hopes,  after 
the  fires  have  consumed  them." 

Mr.  Markland  sighed  deeply,  but  did  not  answer. 
There  was  a  dark  sky  above  and  around  him ;  yet  gleams 
of  light  skirted  a  cloud  here  and  there,  telling  him  that 
the  great  sun  was  shining  serenely  beyond.  He  felt 


228  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

•weak,  sad,  and  almost  hopeless,  as  lie  parted  from  Mr. 
Allison,  who  promised  often  to  visit  his  family  during 
his  absence ;  and  in  his  weakness,  he  lifted  his  heart 
involuntarily  upward,  and  asked  direction  and  strength 
from  Him  whom  he  had  forgotten  in  the  days  when  all 
was  light  around  him,  and,  in  the  pride  and  strength  of 
conscious  manhood,  he  had  felt  that  he  possessed  all 
power  to  effect  the  purposes  of  his  own  will. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

AFTER  a  night  tha^  was  sleepless  to  at  least  three 
members  of  the  family,  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
Mr.  Markland  was  to  start  on  his  journey  came.  Tearful 
eyes  were  around  him.  Even  to  the  last,  Fanny  begged 
him  not  to  leave  them,  and  almost  clung  to  him  at  the 
moment  of  parting.  Finally,  the  separation  was  accom 
plished,  and,  shrinking  back  in  the  carriage  that  con 
veyed  him  to  the  city,  Mr.  Markland  gave  himself  up  to 
sad  reveries.  As  his  thoughts  reached  forward  to  the 
point  of  his  destination,  and  he  tried  to  arrange  in  his 
mind  all  the  information  he  had  relating  to  the  business 
in  which  he  was  now  embarked,  he  saw  more  clearly  than 
ever  the  feeble  hold  upon  his  fortune  that  remained  to 
him.  Less  confident,  too,  was  he  of  the  good  result  of 
his  journey.  Now  that  he  was  fairly  on  the  way,  doubt 
began  to  enter  his  mind. 

This  was  Mr.  Markland's  state  of  feelings  on  reaching 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  229 

the  city.  His  first  act  was  to  drive  to  the  post-office,  to 
get  any  letters  that  might  have  arrived  for  him.  He 
received  only  one,  and  that  was  from  New  York.  The 
contents  were  of  a  startling  character.  Mr.  Fenwick 
wrote  : 

"  Come  on  immediately.  Your  presence  is  desired  by 
all  the  members  of  the  Company  here.  We  have  news 
of  an  unexpected  and  far  from  pleasant  character." 

This  was  all ;  but  it  came  with  a  painful  shock  upon 
the  feelings  of  Mr.  Markland.  Its  very  vagueness  made 
it  the  more  frightful  to  him ;  and  his  heart  imagined  the 
worst. 

Without  communicating  with  his  family,  who  supposed 
him  on  his  journey  southward,  Mr.  Markland  took  the 
first  train  for  New  York,  and  in  a  few  hours  arrived  in 
that  city,  and  called  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Fenwick.  A 
single  glance  at  the  agent's  countenance  told  him  that 
much  was  wrong.  A  look  of  trouble  shadowed  it,  and 
only  a  feeble  smile  parted  his  lips  as  he  came  forward  to 
meet  him. 

"What  news  have  you?"  eagerly  inquired  Mr.  Mark- 
land. 

"Bad  news,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  was  answered. 

"What  is  its  nature?"  The  face  of  Mr.  Markland 
was  of  an  ashen  hue,  and  his  lips  quivered. 

"I  fear  we  have  been  mistaken  in  our  man,"  said  Mr. 
Fenwick. 

"InLyon?" 

"  Yes.  His  last  letters  are  of  a  very  unsatisfactory 
character,  and  little  in  agreement  with  previous  com 
munications.  We  have,  besides,  direct  information 

20 


230  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

from  a  party  on  the  ground,  that  tends  to  confirm  our 
worst  fears." 

"Worst  fears  of  what?"  asked  Markland,  still  strongly 
agitated. 

"  Unfair — nay,  treacherous — dealing. ' ' 

"Treachery!" 

"That  word  but  feebly  expresses  all  we  apprehend." 

"It  involves  fearful  meaning  in  the  present  case," 
said  Markland,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"Fearful  enough,"  said  Fenwick,  gloomily. 

"I  was  just  on  the  eve  of  starting  for  the  ground  of 
the  Company's  operations,  when  your  letter  reached  me 
this  morning.  An  hour  later,  and  I  would  have  been 
on  my  journey  southward,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"It  is  well  that  I  wrote  promptly,"  remarked  Fen- 
wick.  "You  were,  at  least,  saved  a  long  and  fruitless 
journey." 

"It  will  yet  have  to  be  taken,  I  fear,"  said  Mark- 
land. 

Fenwick  shook  his  head  ominously,  and  muttered, 
half  to  himself — "Vain — vain!" 

"Will  you  state  clearly,  yet  in  brief,  the  nature  of 
the  information  you  have  received  from  Mr.  Lyon?"  said 
Markland.  "I  comprehend  nothing  yet." 

"His  last  communication,"  was  answered,  "gives  a 
hurried,  rather  confused  account  of  the  sudden  flood 
ing  of  the  main  shaft,  in  sinking  which  a  large  part  of 
the  capital  invested  has  been  expended,  and  the  hopeless 
abandonment  of  the  work  in  that  direction." 

"Do  you  believe  this  statement?"  asked  Mr.  Mark- 
land. 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  231 

"  I  have  another  letter  from  one  of  the  party  on  the 
ground,  bearing  the  same  date." 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"  But  little  of  the  flooded  shaft.  Such  an  occurrence 
had,  however,  taken  place,  and  the  writer  seemed  to  think 
it  might  require  a  steam-engine  and  pump  to  keep  it 
clear,  involving  a  delay  of  several  months.  The  amount 
of  water  which  came  in  was  sufficient  to  cause  a  suspen 
sion  of  work,  which  he  thought  might  be  only  tempo 
rary  ;  but  he  could  not  speak  with  certainty  in  regard  to 
that.  But  the  most  serious  part  of  his  communication  is 
this:" 

Mr.  Fenwick  took  a  letter  from  his  desk,  and  read : — 

"The  worst  feature  of  the  case  is  the  lack  of  funds. 
The  Government  officials  have  demanded  the  immediate 
payment  of  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  instalments 
due  on  the  Company's  grant  of  land,  and  have  an 
nounced  their  purpose  to  seize  upon  all  the  effects  here, 
and  declare  a  forfeiture,  unless  these  dues  are  forth 
coming  at  the  end  of  the  present  month.  Mr.  Lyon  is 
greatly  troubled,  but  mysterious.  He  has  not,  from  the 
first  day  of  his  arrival  out  up  to  the  present  moment, 
admitted  any  one  fully  into  his  counsels.  I  know  he 
has  been  seriously  hampered  for  lack  of  funds,  but  was 
not  aware,  until  now,  that  the  second  and  third  instal 
ments  of  purchase-money  remained  unpaid ;  and  my 
knowledge  of  this,  and  the  impending  danger  from  the 
Government,  was  only  acquired  through  accident.  No 
doubt  Mr.  Lyon  has  fully  advised  you  of  all  the  facts 
in  the  case ;  still,  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  also  to  refer  to 
the  subject." 


232  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Good  heavens !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Markland,  as  Fen- 
wick  paused,  and  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  letter.  "The 
second,  third,  and  fourth  instalments  not  paid!  What 
can  it  mean  ?  Was  not  the  money  forwarded  to  Mr. 
Lyon?" 

"  He  took  out  funds  to  meet  the  second  and  third  regular 
payments  ;  and  the  money  for  the  fourth  went  forward 
in  good  time.  There  is  something  wrong." 

"  Wrong !"  Mr.  Markland  was  on  his  feet,  and  pacing 
the  floor  in  an  agitated  manner.  "  Something  wrong  ! 
There  exists,  I  fear,  somewhere  in  this  business  a  con 
spiracy  to  swindle." 

And  as  he  said  this,  he  fixed  his  eyes  intently  on  the 
countenance  of  Mr.  Fenwick. 

"  The  agent  with  whom  we  intrusted  so  much  has,  I 
fear,  abused  our  confidence,"  said  Mr.  Fenwick,  speak 
ing  calmly,  and  returning  the  steady  gaze  of  Markland. 

"  Who  is  the  person  who  gives  this  information  about 
the  unpaid  instalments?"  asked  the  latter. 

"  A  man  in  whose  word  every  reliance  may  be  placed." 

"  You  know  him  personally?" 

"Yes." 

"  Is  his  position  on  the  ground  such  as  to  bring  him 
within  the  reach  of  information  like  that  which  he  as 
sumes  to  give  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  he  a  man  of  intelligence?" 

"He  is." 

"And  one  of  cool  judgment  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  this  is  why  the  information  he  gives  is  of 
such  serious  import.  He  would  never  communicate  such 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          233 

information  on  mere  rumour  or  inference.  He  knows  the 
facts,  or  he  would  not  have  averred  to  their  existence." 

"Has  there  been  a  meeting  of  the  Board?"  inquired 
Markland. 

"  There  was  a  hurried  meeting  yesterday  afternoon ; 
and  we  shall  convene  again  at  six  this  evening." 

"What  was  done?" 

"  Nothing.  Consternation  at  the  intelligence  seized 
upon  every  one.  There  were  regrets,  anxieties,  and 
denunciations,  but  no  action." 

"What  is  the  general  view  in  regard  to  Lyon?" 

"  Some  refuse  to  admit  the  implied  charge  that  lies 
against  him ;  while  others  take  the  worst  for  granted, 
and  denounce  him  in  unmeasured  terms." 

"What  is  your  opinion?"  asked  Markland. 

"  Knowing  the  man  from  whom  information  comes,  I 
ambled  to  fear  the  worst.  Still,  there  may  have  been 
some  mistake — some  misapprehension  on  his  part." 

"  The  meeting  takes  place  at  six  o'clock?"  said  Mark- 
land,  after  remaining  a  short  time  silent. 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  propose  any  thing?" 

"I  wish,  first,  to  hear  the  views  of  others.  Prompt 
action  of  some  kind  is  certainly  required." 

"If  Lyon  be  actually  the  villain  he  now  seems,  he 
will  put  himself  entirely  beyond  our  reach  on  the  first 
intimation  of  danger,"  said  Markland. 

"  So  I  have  reasoned.  Our  only  hope,  therefore,  is 
to  get  possession  of  his  person.  But  how  is  this  to  be 
accomplished  ?" 

"  Give  immediate  notice  to  the Government,  that 

28* 


234  THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

he  is  in  possession  of  the  funds  due  them  by  the  Com 
pany,  and  they  will  not  fail  to  secure  his  person,"  said 
Markland.  .  . 

"A  good  suggestion,"  replied  Fenwick.  And  he  sat 
in  a  thoughtful  attitude  for  some  moments.  "  Yes,  that 
is  a  good  suggestion,"  he  repeated.  "We  must  send  a 

shrewd,  confidential  agent  at  once  to  L ,  and  give 

information  of  the  exact  position  of  affairs." 

"What  is  the  date  of  the  last  communication  from 
Lyon?"  asked  Markland. 

"He  wrote  on  the  tenth." 

"  Of  last  month  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  the Government  threatened  to  enter  upon 

and  seize  our  property  on  the  first  of  the  present  month?" 

"  True — true ;  and  the  worst  may  have  already  hap 
pened,"  said  Fenwick.  "Still,  an  agent  must  go  out, 
and  vigorous  efforts  be  made  to  save  our  property." 

"  It  will  scarcely  be  worth  saving,  if  in  the  condition 
represented,  and  all  our  funds  dissipated." 

Fenwick  sighed.  There  was  something  in  that  sigh, 
as  it  reached  the  ears  of  Markland,  which  seemed  like  a 
mockery  of  trouble.  He  raised  his  glance  quickly  to 
the  agent's  face,  and  searched  it  over  with  the  sharp  eye 
of  suspicion.  Fenwick  bore  this  scrutiny  without  the 
faltering  of  a  muscle.  If  he  comprehended  its  meaning, 
his  consciousness  thereof  was  in  no  way  revealed. 

"The  Board  will  meet  here  at  six  o'clock  this  even 
ing,"  said  he,  quietly.  "In  the  mean  time,  you  had 
better  digest  the  information  we  have,  and  come  pre 
pared  to  aid  us  with  your  better  judgment.  The  crisis 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  235 

is  one  that  demands  calm,  earnest  thought  and  decisive 
action." 

"I  will  be  here,"  replied  Markland,  rising.     Then, 
with  a  formal  bow,  he  left  the  agent's  office. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  time  until  six  o'clock,  the  meeting-hour  of  the 
Board,  was  not  spent  by  Mr.  Markland  in  solitary 
thought.  He  visited,  during  that  period,  three  of  the 
principal  men  interested  in  the  business,  and  gleaned 
from  them  their  views  in  regard  to  the  late  startling 
intelligence.  Most  of  them  seemed  utterly  confounded, 
and  no  two  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  as  to 
what  was  best  to  be  done.  Nearly  all  were  inclined  to 
credit  fully  the  report  of  Lyon's  having  failed  to  pay 
the  last  three  instalments  on  the  Company's  land,  and 
they  denounced  him  bitterly.  These  conferences  had 
the  efiect  of  extinguishing  all  hope  in  the  breast  of  Mr. 
Markland.  Even  if  the  half  of  what  he  feared  were  true, 
he  was  hopelessly  ruined. 

At  the  hour  of  meeting,  Markland  assembled  with  the 
New  York  members  of  the  Company,  and  two  from  Bos 
ton,  who  had  been  summoned  on  the  day  previous  by 
telegraph.  The  last  communications  received  by  Mr. 
Fenwick  were  again  read,  and  the  intelligence  they 
brought  discussed  with  more  of  passion  than  judgment. 
Some  proposed  deferring  all  action  until  further  news 


236  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

came ;  while  others  were  for  sending  out  an  agent,  with 
full  powers,  immediately.  To  this  latter  view  the  ma 
jority  inclined.  "If  it  be  true,"  suggested  Markland, 

"  that  the Government  has  threatened  to  seize  upon 

our  property  if  the  three  instalments  were  not  paid  on 
the  first  of  the  present  month,  every  thing  may  now  be 
in  its  hands." 

"Lyon  would  hardly  let  it  come  to  that,"  said  another. 
"He  has  in  his  possession  the  means' of  preventing  such 
a  catastrophe,  by  paying  over  one  of  the  instalments, 
and  thus  gaining  time." 

"  Time  for  what  ?"  was  asked.  "  If  he  mean  to  enrich 
himself  at  our  expense,  he  can  do  it  best  now.  He  is 
too  shrewd  not  to  understand  that,  if  a  question  of  his 
integrity  arises,  his  further  power  to  reach  our  funds  is 
gone." 

"  But  he  does  not  know  that  we  have  information  of 
the  unpaid  instalments." 

"And  that  information  may  come  from  one  who  has 
an  interest  in  ruining  him,"  said  another. 

"You  may  think  so,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Fenwick, 
coolly,  "but  I  will  stake  my  life  on  the  unwavering 
faith  of  my  correspondent  in  all  he  alleges.  Moreover, 
he  is  not  the  man  to  make  a  communication  of  such 
serious  import  lightly.  He  knows  the  facts,  or  he  would 
not  affirm  them.  My  advice  is  to  send  out  an  agent 
immediately." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?"  was  inquired. 

"To  ascertain  the  true  position  of  affairs;  and  if  our 
property  have  really  been  seized  by  the Govern 
ment,  to  take  steps  for  its  release." 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  237 

"More  funds  will  be  required,"  said  one  of  the  Com 
pany. 

"We  cannot,  of  course,  send  out  an  agent  empty- 
handed,"  was  replied. 

"  Depletion  must  stop,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  was 
the  firm  response  of  one  individual.  "  I  will  throw  no 
more  good  money  after  bad.  If  you  send  out  an  agent, 
gentlemen,  don't  call  on  me  to  bear  a  part  of  the  ex 
pense." 

"  You  are  not,  surely,  prepared  to  abandon  every  thing 
at  this  point,"  said  another. 

"  I  am  prepared  to  wait  for  further  news,  before  I  let 
one  more  dollar  leave  my  pocket;  and  I  will  wait,"  was 
answered. 

"And  so  will  I,"  added  another. 

Two  parties  were  gradually  formed ;  one  in  favour  of 
sending  out  an  agent  forthwith,  and  the  other  decided 
in  their  purpose  not  to  risk  another  dollar  until  more 
certain  information  was  received.  This  was  the  aspect 
of  affairs  when  the  Board  adjourned  to  meet  again  on  the 
next  evening. 

The  result  of  this  conference  tended  in  no  degree  to 
calm  the  fears  of  Mr.  Markland.  How  gladly  would  he 
now  give  up  all  interest  in  the  splendid  enterprise  which 
had  so  captivated  his  imagination,  if  he  could  do  so  at 
the  expense  of  one-half  of  his  fortune  ! 

"If  I  could  save  only  a  small  part  of  the  wreck!"  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  paced  the  floor  of  his  room  at  the 
hotel.  It  was  far  past  the  hour  of  midnight,  but  no 
sleep  weighed  upon  his  eyelids.  "Even  sufficient,"  he 
added,  in  a  sad  voice,  "  to  keep  in  possession  our  beau- 


238  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

tiful  home.  As  for  myself,  I  can  go  back  into  busy  life 
again.  I  am  yet  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  and  can 
tread  safely  and  successfully  the  old  and  yet  unforgot- 
ten  ways  to  prosperity.  Toil  will  be  nothing  to  me,  so 
the  home-nest  remain  undisturbed,  and  my  beloved  ones 
suffer  not  through  my  blindness  and  folly." 

A  new  thought  came  into  his  mind.  His  investments 
in  the  enterprise,  now  in  such  jeopardy,  reached  the  sum 
of  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The  greater 
part  of  this  had  been  actually  paid  in.  His  notes  and 
endorsements  made  up  the  balance. 

"  I  will  sell  out  for  twenty-five  cents  in  the  dollar," 
said  he. 

There  was  a  feeble  ray  of  light  in  his  mind,  as  the 
thought  of  selling  out  his  entire  interest  in  the  business, 
at  a  most  desperate  sacrifice,  grew  more  and  more  dis 
tinct.  One  or  two  members  of  the  Board  of  Direction 
had,  during  the  evening's  discussion,  expressed  strong 
doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  the  charge  brought  against  Mr. 
Lyon.  The  flooding  of  the  shaft  was  not,  they  thought, 
unlikely,  and  it  might  seriously  delay  operations ;  but 
they  were  unwilling  to  believe  affairs  to  be  in  the  hope 
less  condition  some  were  disposed  to  think.  Here  was  a 
straw  at  which  the  drowning  man  caught.  He  would  call 
upon  one  of  these  individuals  in  the  morning,  and  offer 
his  whole  interest  at  a  tempting  reduction.  Relieved  at 
this  thought,  Mr.  Markland  could  retire  for  the  night ; 
and  he  even  slept  soundly.  On  awaking  in  the  morning, 
the  conclusion  of  the  previous  night  was  reviewed. 
There  were  some  natural  regrets  at  the  thought  of  giv 
ing  up,  by  a  single  act,  three-fourths  of  his  whole  for- 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  239 

tune ;  but,  like  the  mariner  whose  ship  was  sinking, 
there  was  no  time  to  hesitate  on  the  question  of  sacri 
ficing  the  rich  cargo. 

"Yes — yes,"  he  said  within  himself,  "I  will  be  con 
tent  with  certainty.  Suspense  like  the  present  is  not  to 
be  endured." 

And  so  he  made  preparations  to  call  upon  a  certain 
broker  in  Wall  street,  who  had  expressed  most  confidence 
in  Lyon,  and  offer  to  sell  him  out  his  whole  interest.  He 
had  taken  breakfast,  and  was  about  leaving  the  hotel, 
when,  in  passing  the  reading-room,  it  occurred  to  him  to 
glance  over  the  morning  papers.  So  he  stepped  in  for 
that  purpose. 

Almost  the  first  thing  that  arrested  his  attention  was 
the  announcement  of  an  arrival,  and  news  from  Central 
America.  "BURSTING  OF  A  MAGNIFICENT  BUBBLE — 
FLIGHT  OF  A  DEFAULTING  AGENT." — were  the  next 
words  that  startled  him.  He  read  on  : 

"  The  Government  of has  seized  upon  all  that 

immense  tract  of  land,  reported  to  be  so  rich  in  mineral 
wealth,  which  was  granted  some  two  years  ago  to  the 

Company.  A  confidential  agent  of  this  company, 

to  whom,  it  is  reported,  immense  sums  of  money  were 
intrusted,  and  who  failed  to  pay  over  the  amounts  due 
on  the  purchase,  has  disappeared,  and,  it  is  thought, 
passed  over  to  the  Pacific.  He  is  believed  to  have 
defrauded  the  company  out  of  nearly  half  a  million  of 
dollars." 

"  So  dies  a  splendid  scheme,"  was  the  editorial  re 
mark  in  the  New  York  paper.  "  Certain  parties  in  this 
city  are  largely  interested  in  the  Company,  and  have 


240  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

made  investments  of  several  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
More  than  one  of  these,  it  is  thought,  will  be  ruined  by 
the  catastrophe.  Another  lesson  to  the  too  eager  and 
over-credulous  money-seeker  !  They  will  not  receive  a 
very  large  share  of  public  sympathy." 

Mr.  Markland  read  to  the  end,  and  then  staggered 
back  into  a  chair,  where  he  remained  for  many  minutes, 
before  he  had  the  will  or  strength  to  rise.  He  then  went 
forth  hastily,  and  repaired  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Fenwick. 
Several  members  of  the  Company,  who  had  seen  the  an 
nouncement  in  the  morning  papers,  were  there,  some  pale 
with  consternation,  and  some  strongly  excited.  The 
agent  had  not  yet  arrived.  The  clerk  in  the  office  could 
answer  no  questions  satisfactorily.  He  had  not  seen  Mr. 
Fenwick  since  the  evening  previous. 

"Have  his  letters  yet  arrived?"  was  inquired  by 
one. 

"He  always  takes  them  from  the  post-office  himself," 
answered  the  clerk. 

"  What  is  his  usual  hour  for  coming  to  his  office  in 
the  morning?" 

"He  is  generally  here  by  this  time — often  much 
earlier." 

These  interrogations,  addressed  to  the  clerk  by  one 
of  those  present,  excited  doubts  and  questions  in  the 
minds  of  others. 

"It  is  rather  singular  that  he  should  be  absent  at 
this  particular  time,"  said  Markland,  giving  indirect  ex 
pression  to  his  own  intruding  suspicions. 

"It  is  very  singular,"  said  another.  "He  is  the 
medium  of  information  from  the  theatre  of  our  opera- 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  241 

tions,  and,  above  all  things,  should  not  be  out  of  the 
way  now." 

"  Where  does  he  live  ?"  was  inquired  of  the  clerk. 

"At  No.  — ,  Fourteenth  street." 

"  Will  you  get  into  a  stage  and  ride  up  there  ?" 

"If  you  desire  it,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  young 
man  ;  "  though  it  is  hardly  probable  that  I  will  find  him 
there  at  this  hour.  If  you  wait  a  little  while  longer,  he 
will  no  doubt  be  in." 

The  door  opened,  and  two  more  of  the  parties  inte 
rested  in  this  bursting  bubble  arrived. 

"Where  is  Fenwick?"  was  eagerly  asked. 

"Not  to  be  found,"  answered  one,  abruptly,  and  with 
a  broader  meaning  in  his  tones  than  any  words  had  yet 
expressed. 

"He  hasn't  disappeared,  also!" 

Fearful  eyes  looked  into  blank  faces  at  this  exclama 
tion. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  clerk,  with  considerable  firm 
ness  of  manner,  "language  like  this  must  not  be  used 
here.  It  impeaches  the  character  of  a  man  whose  life 
has  thus  far  been  above  reproach.  Whatever  is  said 
here,  remember,  is  said  in  his  ears,  and  he  will  soon  be 
among  you  to  make  his  own  response." 

The  manner  in  which  this  was  uttered  repressed,  for 
a  time,  further  remarks  reflecting  on  the  integrity  of 
the  agent.  But,  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  an  hour,  his 
continued  absence  was  again  referred  to,  and  in  more 
decided  language  than  before. 

"  Will  you  do  us  one  favour  ?"  said  Mr.  Markland,  on 

whose  mind  suspense  was  sitting  like  a  nightmare.     He 
Q  21 


242  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

spoke  to  the  clerk,  who,  by  this  time,  was  himself  grow 
ing  restless. 

"Any  thing  you  desire,  if  it  is  in  my  power,"  was 
answered. 

"  Will  you  go  down  to  the  post-office,  and  inquire  if 
Mr.  Fenwick  has  received  his  letters  this  morning?" 

"  Certainly,  I  will."  And  the  clerk  went  on  the 
errand  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"Mr.  Fenwick  received  his  letters  over  two  hours 
ago,"  said  the  young  man,  on  his  return.  He  looked 
disappointed  and  perplexed. 

"And  you  know  nothing  of  him?"  was  said. 

"  Nothing,  gentlemen,  I  do  assure  you.  His  absence 
is  to  me  altogether  inexplicable." 

"Where's  Fenwick?"  was  now  asked,  in  an  imperative 
voice,  by  a  new  comer. 

"  Not  been  seen  this  morning,"  replied  Markland. 

"  Another  act  in  this  tragedy !  Gone,  I  suppose,  to 
join  his  accomplice  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  share  his 
plunder,"  said  the  man,  passionately. 

"You  are  using  very  strong  language,  sir  !"  suggested 
one. 

"Not  stronger  than  the  case  justifies.  For  my  own 
assurance,  I  sent  out  a  secret  agent,  and  I  have  my  first 
letter  from  him  this  morning.  He  arrived  just  in  time 
to  see  our  splendid  schemes  dissolve  in  smoke.  Lyon  is 
a  swindler,  Fenwick  an  accomplice,  and  we  a  parcel  of 
easy  fools.  The  published  intelligence  we  have  to-day 
is  no  darker  than  the  truth.  The  bubble  burst  by  the 
unexpected  seizure  of  our  lands,  implements,  and  improve 
ments,  by  the Government.  It  contained  nothing 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  243 

but  air !  Fenwick  and  Lyon  had  just  played  one  of  their 
reserved  cards — it  had  something  to  do  with  the  flood 
ing  of  a  shaft,  which  would  delay  results,  and  require 
more  capital — when  the  impatient  grantors  of  the  land 
foreclosed  every  thing.  From  the  hour  this  catastrophe 
became  certain,  Lyon  was  no  more  seen.  He  was  fully 
prepared  for  the  emergency." 

In  confirmation  of  this,  letters  giving  the  minutest 
particulars  were  shown,  thus  corroborating  the  worst, 
and  extinguishing  the  feeblest  rays  of  hope. 

All  was  too  true.  The  brilliant  bubble  had  indeed 
burst,  and  not  the  shadow  of  a  substance  remained. 
When  satisfied  of  this  beyond  all  doubt,  Markland,  on 
whose  mind  suffering  had  produced  a  temporary  stupor, 
sought  his  room  at  the  hotel,  and  remained  there  for 
several  days,  so  hopeless,  weak,  and  undecided,  that  he 
seemed  almost  on  the  verge  of  mental  imbecility.  How 
could  he  return  home  and  communicate  the  dreadful  in 
telligence  to  his  family  ?  How  could  he  say  to  them, 
that,  for  his  transgressions,  they  must  go  forth  from 
their  beautiful  Eden  ? 

"  No — no !"  he  exclaimed,  wringing  his  hands  in 
anguish.  "  I  can  never  tell  them  this !  I  can  never 
look  into  their  faces  !  Never !  never  !" 

The  moment  had  come,  and  the  tempter  was  at  his 
ear.  There  was,  first,  the  remote  suggestion  of  self- 
banishment  in  some  distant  land,  where  the  rebuking 
presence  of  his  injured  family  could  never  haunt  him. 
But  he  felt  that  a  life  in  this  world,  apart  from  them, 
would  be  worse  than  death. 

"I  am  mocked!  I  am  cursed!"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly. 


244  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

The  tempter  was  stealthily  doing  his  work. 

"  Oh !  what  a  vain  struggle  is  this  life !  What  a  fitful 
fever  !  Would  that  it  were  over,  and  I  at  rest !" 

The  tempter  was  leading  his  thoughts  at  will. 

"  How  can  I  meet  my  wronged  family  ?  How  can  I 
look  my  friends  in  the  face  ?  I  shall  be  to  the  world 
only  a  thing  of  pity  or  reproach.  Can  I  bear  this  ?  No 
— no — I  cannot — I  cannot!" 

Magnified  by  the  tempter,  the  consequence  looked 
appalling.  He  felt  that  he  had  not  strength  to  meet  it 
— that  all  of  manhood  would  be  crushed  out  of  him. 

"What  then?"  He  spoke  the  words  almost  aloud, 
and  held  his  breath,  as  if  for  answer. 

"A  moment,  and  all  will  be  over!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  tempter. 

Markland  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sat  for  a 
long  time  as  motionless  as  if  sleep  had  obscured  his 
senses ;  and  all  that  time  a  fearful  debate  was  going  on 
in  his  mind.  At  last  he  rose  up,  changed  in  feeling  as 
well  as  in  aspect.  His  resolution  was  taken,  and  a  deep, 
almost  leaden,  calmness  pervaded  his  spirit.  He  had  re 
solved  on  self-destruction ! 

With  a  strange  coolness,  the  self-doomed  man  now 
proceeded  to  select  the  agent  of  death.  He  procured  a 
work  on  poisons,  and  studied  the  effects  of  different  sub 
stances,  choosing,  finally,  that  which  did  the  fatal  work 
most  quickly  and  with  the  slightest  pain.  This  sub 
stance  was  then  procured.  But  he  could  not  turn  for 
ever  from  those  nearest  and  dearest,  without  a  parting 
word. 

The  day  had  run  almost  to  a  close  in  these  fearful 


THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING.  245 

struggles  and  fatal  preparations;  and  the  twilight  was 
falling,  when,  exhausted  and  in  tears,  the  wretched  man 
folded,  with  trembling  hands,  a  letter  he  had  penned  to 
his  wife.  This  done,  he  threw  himself,  weak  as  a  child, 
upon  the  bed,  and,  ere  conscious  that  sleep  was  stealing 
upon  him,  fell  off  into  slumber. 

Sleep !  It  is  the  great  restorer.  For  a  brief  season 
the  order  of  life  is  changed,  and  the  involuntary  powers 
of  the  mind  bear  rule  in  place  of  the  voluntary.  The 
actual,  with  all  its  pains  and  pleasures,  is  for  the  time 
annihilated.  The  pressure  of  thought  and  the  fever 
of  emotion  are  both  removed,  and  the  over-taxed  spirit 
is  at  rest.  Into  his  most  loving  guardianship  the  great 
Creator  of  man,  who  gave  him  reason  and  volition,  and 
the  freedom  to  guide  himself,  takes  his  creature,  and, 
while  the  image  of  death  is  upon  him,  gathers  about  him 
the  Everlasting  Arms.  He  suspends,  for  a  time,  the 
diseased  voluntary  life,  that  he  may,  through  the  in 
voluntary,  restore  a  degree  of  health,  and  put  the  crea 
ture  he  has  formed  for  happiness  in  a  new  condition  of 
mental  and  moral  freedom. 

Blessed  sleep !  Who  has  not  felt  and  acknowledged 
thy  sweet  influences  ?  Who  has  not  wondered  at  thy 
power  in  the  tranquil  waking,  after  a  night  that  closed 
around  the  spirit  in  what  seemed  the  darkness  of  coming 
despair  ? 

Markland  slept ;  and  in  his  sleep,  guided  by  angels, 
there  came  to  him  the  spirits  of  his  wife  and  children, 
clothed  in  the  beauty  of  innocence.  How  lovingly  they 
gathered  around  him !  how  sweet  were  their  words  in 
his  ears  !  how  exquisite  the  thrill  awakened  by  each  ten- 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  246 

der  kiss !  Now  he  was  with  them  in  their  luxurious 
home ;  and  now  they  were  wandering,  in  charmed  inter 
course,  amid  its  beautiful  surroundings.  Change  after 
change  went  on ;  new  scenes  and  new  characters  ap 
peared,  and  yet  the  life  seemed  orderly  and  natural. 
Suddenly  there  came  a  warning  of  danger.  The  sky 
grew  fearfully  dark ;  fierce  lightning  burned  through 
the  air,  and  the  giant  tempest  swept  down  upon  the 
earth  with  resistless  fury.  Next  a  flood  was  upon  them. 
And  now  he  was  seized  with  the  instinct  of  self-preser 
vation,  and  in  a  moment  had  deserted  his  helpless  family, 
and  was  fleeing,  alone  to  a  place  of  safety.  From 
thence  he  saw  wife  and  children  borne  off  by  the  rush 
of  waters,  their  white,  imploring  faces  turned  to  him,  and 
their  hands  stretched  out  for  succour.  Then  all  his  love 
returned ;  self  was  forgotten ;  he  would  have  died  to 
save  them.  But  it  was  too  late !  Even  while  he  looked, 
they  were  engulfed  and  lost. 

From  such  a  dream  Markland  was  awakened  into 
conscious  life.  The  shadowy  twilight  had  been  succeeded 
by  darkness.  He  started  up,  confused  and  affrighted. 
Some  moments  passed  before  his  bewildered  thoughts 
were  able  to  comprehend  his  real  position ;  and  when  he 
did  so,  he  fell  back,  with  a  groan,  horror-stricken,  upon 
the  bed.  The  white  faces  and  imploring  hands  of  his 
wife  and  children  were  still  vividly  before  him. 

"Poor,  weak,  coward  heart !"  he  at  last  murmured  to 
himself.  "  An  evil  spirit  was  thy  counsellor.  I  knew 
not  that  so  mean  and  base  a  purpose  could  find  admit 
tance  there.  What !  Beggar  and  disgrace  my  wife  and 
children,  and  then,  like  a  skulking  coward,  leave  them 


247  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

to  bear  the  evil  I  had  not  the  courage  to  face  !  Edward 
Markland!  Can  this,  indeed,  be  true  of  thee?" 

And  the  excited  man  sprang  from  the  bed.  A 
feeble  light  came  in  through  the  window-panes  above  the 
door,  and  made  things  dimly  visible.  He  moved  about, 
for  a  time,  with  an  uncertain  air,  and  then  rung  for  a 
light.  The  first  object  that  met  his  eyes,  when  the  ser 
vant  brought  in  a  lamp,  was  a  small,  unopened  package, 
lying  on  the  table.  He  knew  its  contents.  What  a 
strong  shudder  ran  through  his  frame  !  Seizing  it  the 
instant  the  attendant  left  the  room,  he  flung  it  through 
the  open  window.  Then,  sinking  on  his  knees,  he 
thanked  God  fervently  for  a  timely  deliverance. 

The  fierce  struggle  with  pride  was  now  over.  Weak, 
humbled,  and  softened  in  feeling  almost  to  tears,  Mark- 
land  sat  alone,  through  the  remainder  of  that  evening, 
with  his  thoughts  reaching  forward  into  the  future,  and 
seeking  to  discover  the  paths  in  which  his  feet  must 
walk.  For  himself  he  cared  not  now.  Ah !  if  the 
cherished  ones  could  be  saved  from  the  consequences  of 
his  folly !  If  he  alone  were  destined  to  move  in  rough 
and  thorny  ways !  But  there  was  for  them  no  escape. 
The  paths  in  which  he  moved  they  must  move.  The 
cup  he  had  made  bitter  for  himself  would  be  bitter  for 
them  also. 

Wretched  man !  Into  what  a  great  deep  of  misery 
had  he  plunged  himself! 


248  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IT  was  near  the  close  of  the  fifth  day  since  Mr.  Mark- 
land  left  his  home  to  commence  a  long  journey  south 
ward  ;  and  yet,  no  word  had  come  back  from  him.  He 
had  promised  to  write  from  Baltimore,  and  from  other 
points  on  his  route,  and  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  for 
at  least  two  letters  to  arrive.  A  servant,  who  had  been 
sent  to  the  city  post-office,  had  returned  without  bring 
ing  any  word  from  the  absent  one ;  and  Mrs.  Markland, 
with  Fanny  by  her  side,  was  sitting  near  a  window  sad 
and  silent. 

Just  one  year  has  passed  since  their  introduction  to 
the  reader.  But  what  a  change  one  year  has  wrought ! 
The  heart's  bright  sunshine  rested  then  on  every  object. 
Woodbine  Lodge  was  then  a  paradise.  Now,  there  is 
scarcely  a  ray  of  this  warm  sunshine.  Yet  there  had 
been  no  bereavement — no  affliction ;  nothing  that  we 
refer  to  a  mysterious  Providence.  No, — but  the  tempter 
was  admitted.  He  came  with  specious  words  and  deceiv 
ing  pretences.  He  vailed  the  present  good,  and  mag 
nified  the  worth  of  things  possessing  no  power  to  satisfy 
the  heart.  Too  surely  has  he  suceeded  in  the  accom 
plishment  of  his  evil  work. 

At  the  time  of  the  reader's  introduction  to  Woodbine 
Lodge,  a  bright  day  was  going  down  in  beauty;  and 
there  was  not  a  pulse  in  nature  that  did  not  beat  in 
unison  with  the  hearts  of  its  happy  denizens.  A  sum- 


THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING.  249 

mer  day  was  again  drawing  to  its  close,  but  sobbing  it 
self  away  in  tears.  And  they  were  in  tears  also,  whose 
spirits,  but  a  single  year  gone  by,  reflected  only  the 
light  and  beauty  of  nature. 

By  the  window  sat  the  mother  and  daughter,  with 
oppressed  hearts,  looking  out  upon  the  leaden  sky  and 
the  misty  gusts  that  swept  across  the  gloomy  landscape. 
Sad  and  silent,  we  have  said,  they  were.  Now  and  then 
they  gazed  into  each  other's  faces,  and  the  lips  quivered 
as  if  words  were  on  them.  But  each  spirit  held  back 
the  fear  by  which  it  was  burdened — and  the  eyes  turned 
wearily  again  from  the  open  window. 

At  last,  Fanny's  heavy  heart  could  bear  in  silence 
the  pressure  no  longer.  Hiding  her  face  in  her  mother's 
lap,  she  sobbed  out  violently.  Repressing  her  own 
struggling  emotions,  Mrs.  Markland  spoke  soothing, 
hopeful  words ;  and  even  while  she  sought  to  strengthen 
her  daughter's  heart,  her  own  took  courage. 

"My  dear  child,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  made  even  by 
depressing  its  tone,  "  do  you  not  remember  that  beauti 
ful  thought  expressed  by  Mrs.  Willet  yesterday  ?  *  Death,' 
said  she,  '  signifies  life ;  for  in  every  death  there  is  resur 
rection  into  a  higher  and  purer  life.  This  is  as  true,' 
she  remarked,  *  of  our  affections,  which  are  but  activities 
of  the  life,  as  of  the  natural  life  itself.'  ' 

The  sobs  of  the  unhappy  girl  died  away.  Her  mother 
continued,  in  a  low,  earnest  voice,  speaking  to  her  own 
heart  as  well  as  to  that  of  her  child,  for  it,  too,  needed 
strength  and  comfort. 

"  How  often  have  we  been  told,  in  our  Sabbath  in 
structions,  that  natural  affections  cannot  be  taken  to 


250  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

heaven;    that   they  must  die,  in  order   that   spiritual 
affections  may  be  born." 

Fanny  raised  herself  up,  and  said,  with  slight  warmth 
of  manner — 

"  Is  not  my  love  for  you  a  natural  affection  for  my 
natural  mother  ?  And  must  that  die  before  I  can  enter 
heaven?" 

"  May  it  not  be  changed  into  a  love  of  what  is  good 
in  your  mother,  instead  of  remaining  only  a  love  of  her 
person?" 

"  Dear  mother !"  almost  sobbed  again  the  unhappy 
child, — clasping  eagerly  the  neck  of  her  parent, — "  it  is 
such  a  love  now  !  Oh  !  if  I  were  as  good,  and  patient, 
and  self-denying  as  you  are  !" 

"All  our  natural  affections,"  resumed  Mrs.  Markland, 
after  a  few  moments  were  given  to  self-control,  "have 
simple  regard  to  ourselves ;  and  their  indulgence  never 
brings  the  promised  happiness.  This  is  why  a  wise  and 
good  Creator  permits  our  natural  desires  to  be  so  often 
thwarted.  In  this  there  is  mercy,  and  not  unkindness; 
for  the  fruition  of  these  desires  would  often  be  most  ex 
quisite  misery." 

"Hark!"  exclaimed  Fanny,  starting  up  at  this  mo 
ment,  and  leaning  close  to  the  window.  The  sound  that 
had  fallen  upon  her  ear  had  also  reached  the  ears  of  the 
mother. 

"  Oh  !  it's  father  !"  fell  almost  wildly  from  the  daugh 
ter's  lips,  and  she  sprang  out  into  the  hall,  and  forth  to 
meet  him  in  the  drenching  rain.  Mrs.  Markland  could 
not  rise,  but  sat,  nerveless,  until  the  husband  entered  the 
room. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  251 

"  Oh,  Edward  !  Edward  !"  she  then  exclaimed,  rising, 
and  staggering  forward  to  meet  him.  "  Thank  our  kind 
Father  in  heaven  that  you  are  with  us  again !"  And 
her  head  sunk  upon  his  bosom,  and  she  felt  his  embracing 
arms  drawn  tightly  around  her.  How  exquisitely  happy 
she  was  for  the  moment !  But  she  was  aroused  by  the 
exclamation  of  Fanny : — 

"  Oh,  father  !     How  pale  you  look  !" 

Mrs.  Markland  raised  herself  quickly,  and  gazed  into 
her  husband's  face.  What  a  fearful  change  was  there  ! 
He  was  pale  and  haggard ;  and  in  his  bloodshot  eyes 
she  read  a  volume  of  wretchedness. 

"Oh,  Edward!  what  has  happened?"  she  asked, 
eagerly  and  tenderly. 

"  More  than  I  dare  tell  you  !"  he  replied,  in  a  voice 
full  of  despair. 

"Perhaps  I  can  divine  the  worst." 

Markland  had  turned  his  face  partly  away,  that  he 
might  conceal  its  expression.  But  the  unexpected  tone 
in  which  this  sentence  was  uttered  caused  him  to  look 
back  quickly.  There  was  no  foreboding  fear  in  the 
countenance  of  his  wife.  She  had  spoken  firmly — almost 
cheerfully. 

"The  worst?  Dear  Agnes!"  he  said,  with  deep 
anguish  in  his  voice.  "It  has  not  entered  into  your 
imagination  to  conceive  the  worst !" 

"All  is  lost !"  she  answered,  calmly. 

"  All,"  he  replied,  "but  honour,  and  a  heart  yet  brave 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  battle  with  the  world  for 
the  sake  of  its  beloved  ones." 

Mrs.  Markland  hid  her  face  on  the  breast  of  her  hus- 


252  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

band,  and  stood,  for  some  minutes,  silent.  Fanny  ap 
proached  her  father,  and  laid  her  head  against  him. 

"All  this  does  not  appal  me,"  said  Mrs.  Markland, 
and  she  looked  up  and  smiled  faintly  through  tears  that 
could  not  be  repressed. 

"  Oh,  Agnes !  Agnes !  can  you  bear  the  thought  of 
being  driven  out  from  this  Eden  ?" 

"Its  beauty  has  already  faded,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 
"If  it  is  ours  no  longer,  we  must  seek  another  home. 
And  home,  you  know,  dear  Edward,  is  where  the  heart 
is,  and  the  loved  ones  dwell." 

But  not  so  calmly  could  Fanny  bear  this  announce 
ment.  She  had  tried  hard,  for  her  father's  sake,  to 
repress  her  feelings ;  but  now  they  gave  way  into 
hysterical  weeping.  Far  beyond  his  words  her  thoughts 
leaped,  and  already  bitter  self-reproaches  had  begun. 
Had  she  at  once  informed  him  of  Mr.  Lyon's  return, 
singular  interview,  and  injunction  of  secrecy,  all  these 
appalling  consequences  might  have  been  saved.  In  an 
instant  this  flashed  upon  her  mind,  and  the  conviction 
overwhelmed  her. 

"My  poor  child,"  said  Mr.  Markland,  sadly,  yet  with 
great  tenderness, — "  would  to  heaven  I  could  save  you 
from  the  evil  that  lies  before  us  !  But  I  am  powerless 
in  the  hands  of  a  stern  necessity." 

"Oh,  father!"  sobbed  the  weeping  girl,  "if  I  could 
bear  this  change  alone,  I  would  be  happy." 

"Let  us  all  bear  it  cheerfully  together,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland,  in  a  quiet  voice,  and  with  restored  calmness 
of  spirit.  "Heaven,  as  Mrs.  Willet  says,  with  so  much 
truth,  is  not  without,  but  within  us.  The  elements  of 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  253 

happiness  lie  not  in  external,  but  in  internal  things.  I 
do  not  think,  Edward,  even  with  all  we  had  of  good  in 
possession,  you  have  been  happy  for  the  past  year.  The 
unsatisfied  spirit  turned  itself  away  from  all  that  was 
beautiful  in  nature — from  all  it  had  sought  for  as  the 
means  of  contentment,  and  sighed  for  new  possessions. 
And  these  would  also  have  lost  their  charms,  had  you 
gained  them,  and  your  restless  heart  still  sighed  after 
an  ideal  good.  It  may  be — nay,  it  must  be — in  mercy, 
that  our  heavenly  Father  permitted  this  natural  evil  to 
fall  upon  us.  The  night  that  approaches  will  prove,  I 
doubt  not,  the  winter  night  in  which  much  bread  will 
grow." 

"  Comforter  !"     He  spoke  the  word  with  emotion. 

"And  should  I  not  be?"  was  the  almost  cheerful 
answer.  "  Those  who  cannot  help  should  at  least  speak 
words  of  comfort." 

"  Words !  They  are  more  than  words  that  you  have 
spoken.  They  have  in  them  a  substance  and  a  life. 
But,  Fanny,  dear  child !"  he  said,  turning  to  his  still 
grieving  daughter — "your  tears  distress  me.  They  pain 
more  deeply  than  rebuking  sentences.  My  folly" — 

"Father!"  exclaimed  Fanny — "it  is  I — not  you — 
that  must  bear  reproach.  A  word  might  have  saved  all. 
Weak,  erring  child  that  I  was  !  Oh !  that  fatal  secret 
which  almost  crushed  my  heart  with  its  burden  !  Why 
did  I  not  listen  to  the  voice  of  conscience  and  duty  ?" 

"  Let  the  dead  past  rest,"  said  Mr.  Markland.  "  Your 
error  was  light,  in  comparison  with  mine.  Had  I  guarded 
the  approaches  to  the  pleasant  land,  where  innocence 
and  peace  had  their  dwelling-place,  the  subtle  tempter 

22 


254  THE   GOOD  TIME   COMING/ 

could  never  have  entered.      To  mourn  over  the  past  but 
weakens  the  spirit." 

But  of  all  that  passed  between  these  principal  mem 
bers  of  a  family  upon  whom  misfortune  had  come  like  a 
flood,  we  cannot  make  a  record.  The  father's  return 
soon  became  known  to  the  rest,  and  the  children's  glad 
ness  fell,  like  a  sunny  vail,  over  the  sterner  features  of 
the  scene. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  disaster  was  complete.  Not  a  single  dollar  of  all 
Markland  had  cast  so  blindly  into  the  whirling  vortex 
ever  came  back  to  him.  Fenwick  disappeared  from  New 
York,  leaving  behind  conclusive  evidence  of  a  dark  com 
plicity  with  the  specious  Englishman,  whose  integrity 
had  melted  away,  like  snow  in  the  sunshine,  beneath  the 
fire  of  a  strong  temptation.  Honourably  connected 
at  home,  shrewd,  intelligent,  and  enterprising,  he  had 
been  chosen  as  the  executive  agent  of  a  company  pre 
pared  to  make  large  investments  in  a  scheme  that  pro 
mised  large  results.  He  was  deputed  to  bring  the  busi 
ness  before  a  few  capitalists  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  with  what  success  has  been  seen.  His  recreancy  to 
the  trust  reposed  in  him  was  the  ruin  of  many. 

How  shall  we  describe  the  scenes  that  followed,  too 
quickly,  the  announcement  by  Mr.  Markland  that  Wood 
bine  Lodge  was  no  longer  to  remain  in  his  possession  ? 
No  member  of  the  family  could  meet  the  stern  necessity 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  255 

without  pain.  The  calmest  of  all  the  troubled  house 
hold  was  Mrs.  Markland.  Fanny,  whom  the  event  had 
awakened  from  a  partial  stupor,  gradually  declined  into 
her  former  state.  She  moved  about  more  like  an  auto 
maton  than  a  living  figure ;  entering  into  all  the  duties 
and  activities  appertaining  to  the  approaching  change, 
yet  seeming  entirely  indifferent  to  all  external  things. 
She  was  living  and  suffering  in  the  inner  world,  more 
than  in  the  outer.  With  the  crushing  out  of  a  wild, 
absorbing  love,  had  died  all  interest  in  life.  She  was 
in  the  external  world,  but,  so  far  as  any  interest  in  pass 
ing  events  was  concerned,  not  of  it.  Sad,  young  heart. 
A  most  cruel  experience  was  thine ! 

When  the  disastrous  intelligence  was  made  known  to 
Aunt  Grace,  that  rather  peculiar  and  excitable  personage 
did  not  fail  to  say  that  it  was  nothing  more  than  she  had 
expected;  that  she  had  seen  the  storm  coming,  long 
and  long  ago,  and  had  long  and  long  ago  lifted,  without 
avail,  a  voice  of  warning.  As  for  Mr.  Lyon,  he  received 
a  double  share  of  execration — ending  with  the  oft-re 
peated  remark,  that  she  had  felt  his  shadow  when  he 
first  came  among  them,  and  that  she  knew  he  must  be  a 
bad  man.  The  ebullition  subsided,  in  due  time,  and 
then  the  really  good-hearted  spinster  gave  her  whole 
thought  and  active  energy  to  the  new  work  that  was  be 
fore  them. 

After  the  fierce  conflict  endured  by  Mr.  Markland, 
ending  wellnigh  fatally,  a  calmness  of  spirit  succeeded. 
With  him,  the  worst  was  over;  and  now,  he  bowed  him 
self,  almost  humbly,  amid  the  ruins  of  his  shattered  for 
tunes,  and,  with  a  heavy  heart,  began  to  reconstruct  a  home, 


256  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

into  which  his  beloved  ones  might  find  shelter.  Any 
time  within  the  preceding  five  or  six  years,  an  intimation 
on  his  part  that  he  wished  to  enter  business  again  would 
have  opened  the  most  advantageous  connections.  It  was 
different  now.  There  had  been  a  season  of  overtrading. 
Large  balances  in  England  and  France  were  draining 
the  Atlantic  cities  of  specie,  and  short  crops  made  it 
impossible  for  western  and  southern  merchants  to  meet 
their  heavy  payments  at  the  east.  Money  ruled  high, 
in  consequence ;  weak  houses  were  giving  way,  and  a 
general  uneasiness  was  beginning  to  prevail.  But,  even 
if  these  causes  had  not  operated  against  the  prospects 
of  Mr.  Markland,  his  changed  circumstances  would  have 
been  a  sufficient  bar  to  an  advantageous  business  con 
nection.  He  was  no  longer  a  capitalist;  and  the  fact 
that  he  had  recklessly  invested  his  money  in  what  was 
now  pronounced  one  of  the  wildest  schemes,  was  looked 
upon  as  conclusive  evidence  against  his  discretion  and 
sound  judgment.  The  trite  saying,  that  the  world 
judges  of  men  by  success  or  failure,  was  fully  illustrated 
in  his  case.  Once,  he  was  referred  to  as  the  shrewdest 
of  business  men  ;  now,  he  was  held  up  to  ambitious 
young  tradesmen  as  a  warning  wreck,  stranded  amid  the 
breakers. 

How  painfully  was  Mr.  Markland  reminded,  at  almost 
every  turn,  of  the  changed  relations  he  bore  to  the 
world !  He  had  not  doubted  his  ability  to  form  a  good 
business  connection  with  some  house  of  standing,  or  with 
some  young  capitalist,  ready  to  place  money  against 
his  experience  and  trade.  But  in  this  he  was  doomed  to 
disappointment.  His  friends  spoke  discouragingly ; 


THE    QOOD   TIME   COMING.  257 

and  everywhere  he  met  but  a  cold  response  to  his 
views.  Meantime,  one  creditor  of  the  Company,  in 
New  York,  who  held  a  matured  piece  of  paper  on  which 
Mr.  Markland's  name  was  inscribed,  commenced  a  suit 
against  him.  To  prevent  this  creditor  getting  all  that 
remained  of  his  wasted  estate,  an  assignment  for  the 
benefit  of  all  was  made,  and  preparations  at  once  com 
menced  for  removing  from  Woodbine  Lodge. 

A  few  days  after  this  arrangement,  Mr.  Willet,  whose 
family  had  gathered  closer  around  their  neighbours  the 
moment  the  fact  of  their  misfortune  was  known,  came 
over  to  see  Mr.  Markland  and  have  some  talk  with  him 
about  his  future  prospects.  A  brief  conversation  which 
had  taken  place  on  the  day  previous  opened  the  way  for 
him  to  do  so  without  seeming  to  intrude.  The  impossi 
bility  of  getting  into  business  at  the  present  time  was 
admitted,  on  both  sides,  fully.  Mr.  Willet  then  said — 

"  If  the  place  of  salesman  in  a  large  jobbing-house 
would  meet  your  views,  I  believe  I  can  manage  it  for  you." 

"  I  am  in  no  situation,"  replied  Mr.  Markland,  "to 
make  my  own  terms  with  the  world.  Standing  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder,  I  must  accept  the  first  means  of  ascent 
that  offers." 

"  You  will,  then,  take  the  place?" 

"Yes,  if  the  offer  is  made." 

"  The  salary  is  not  as  large  as  I  could  wish,"  said  Mr. 
Willet. 

"  How  much  ?" 

"  Twelve  hundred  dollars." 

"  Get  it  for  me,  Mr.  Willet,  and  I  will  be  deeply  grateful. 

That  sum  will  save  my  children  from  immediate  want." 
E  22* 


258  THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

"I  wish  it  were  more,  for  your  sake,"  replied  the  kind 
neighbour.  "But  I  trust  it  will  be  the  beginning  of  better 
things.  You  will,  at  least,  gain  a  footing  on  the  first 
round  of  the  ladder." 

"But  the  advantage  is  only  in  prospect,"  said  Mr. 
Markland.  "  The  place  is  not  yet  mine." 

"You  have  the  refusal,"  was  the  pleased  answer. 
"I  had  you  in  my  mind  when  I  heard  of  the  vacancy, 
and  mentioned  your  name.  The  principal  of  the  firm 
said,  without  a  word  of  hesitation,  that  if  you  were  avail 
able,  you  would  just  suit  him." 

"  I  shall  not  soon  forget  your  real  kindness,"  responded 
Markland,  grasping  the  hand  of  Mr.  Willet.  "  You  have 
proved,  indeed,  though  an  acquaintance  of  recent  date,  a 
true  friend.  Ah,  sir !  my  heart  had  begun  to  despond. 
So  many  cold  looks,  changed  tones,  and  discouraging 
words  !  I  was  not  prepared  for  them.  When  a  man  is 
no  longer  able  to  stand  alone,  how  few  there  are  to  reach 
out  an  arm  to  give  him  support !" 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  replied  Mr.  Willet; 
"  and  if  we  give  it  credit  for  more  virtue  than  it  pos 
sesses,  a  sad  disappointment  awaits  us.  But  there  are 
higher  and  better  principles  of  action  than  such  as  go 
vern  the  world.  They  bring  a  higher  and  better  reward." 

"  May  the  better  reward  be  yours,"  said  Mr.  Markland, 
fervently.  His  heart  was  touched  by  this  real  but  unob 
trusive  kindness. 

"When  do  you  purpose  leaving  here?"  next  inquired 
Mr.  Willet. 

"As  ea.rly  as  I  can  make  arrangements  for  removing 
my  family,"  was  answered. 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  259 

"Where  do  you  think  of  going?" 

"Into  the  city." 

"  Would  you  not  prefer  remaining  in  this  pleasant 
neighbourhood  ?  I  do  not  see  how  my  mother  and  sisters 
are  going  to  give  you  all  up.  Mrs.  Markland  has  already 
won  her  way  into  all  their  affections,  and  they  have 
mourned  over  your  misfortunes  as  deeply,  I  believe,  as  if 
they  had  been  our  own.  Pardon  the  freedom  of  speech 
which  is  only  a  warm  heart-utterance,  when  I  say  that 
there  is  a  beauty  in  the  character  of  Mrs.  Markland  that 
has  charmed  us  all ;  and  we  cannot  think  of  losing  her 
society.  Walker  told  me  to-day  that  his  wife  was  dis 
satisfied  with  a  country  life,  and  that  he  was  going  to 
sell  his  pleasant  cottage.  I  offered  him  his  price,  and 
the  title-deeds  will  be  executed  to-morrow.  Will  you  do 
me  the  favour  to  become  my  tenant  ?  The  rent  is  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

Mr.  Willet  spoke  very  earnestly.  It  was  some  mo 
ments  before  there  was  any  reply.  Then  Mr.  Markland 
raised  his  eyes  from  the  floor,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  that 
slightly  trembled — 

"I  saw  a  house  advertised  for  rent  in  the  city,  to-day, 
which  I  thought  would  suit  us.  It  was  small,  and  the 
rent  three  hundred  dollars.  On  learning  the  owner's 
name,  I  found  that  he  was  an  old  business  friend,  with 
whom  I  had  been  quite  intimate,  and  so  called  upon  him. 
His  reception  of  me  was  not  over  cordial.  When  I  men 
tioned  my  errand,  he  hesitated  in  his  replies,  and  finally 
hinted  something  about  security  for  the  rent.  I  left  him 
without  a  word.  To  have  replied  without  an  exposure  of 
unmanly  weakness  would  have  been  impossible.  Keenly, 


260  THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

since  my  misfortunes,  have  I  felt  the  change  in  my  rela 
tions  to  the  world  ;  but  nothing  has  wounded  me  so  sharply 
as  this  !  Mr.  Willet,  your  generous  interest  in  my  wel 
fare  touches  my  heart !  Let  me  talk  with  my  family  on 
the  subject.  I  doubt  not  that  we  will  accept  your  offer 
thankfully.' 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"  OUR  Father  in  heaven  never  leaves  us  in  a  pathless 
desert,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  light  breaking  through  her 
tear-filled  eye.  Her  husband  had  just  related  the  con 
versation  held  with  Mr.  Willet.  "  When  the  sun  goes 
down,  stars  appear." 

"  A  little  while  ago,  the  desert  s^^pd  pathless,  and  no 
star  glittered  in  the  sky,"  w»-  .  ed. 

"  Yet  the  path  was  there,  Edward ;  you  had  not  looked 
close  enough  to  your  feet,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  It  was  so  narrow  that  it  would  have  escaped  my 
vision,"  he  said,  faintly  sighing. 

"  If  it  were  not  the  safest  way  for  you  and  for  all  of 
us,  it  would  not  be  the  only  one  now  permitted  our  feet 
to  tread." 

"  Safest  it  may  be  for  me ;  but  your  feet  could  walk, 
securely,  a  pathway  strewn  with  flowers.  Ah  me  !  the 
thought  that  my  folly " 

"  Edward,"  Mrs.  Markland  interrupted  him  in  a  quick, 
earnest  voice,  "  if  you  love  me,  spare  me  in  this. 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  261 

When  I  laid  my  hand  in  yours  on  that  happy  day,  which 
was  but  the  beginning  of  happier  ones,  I  began  a  new 
life.  All  thought,  all  affection,  all  joy  in  the  present 
and  hope  in  the  future,  were  thenceforth  to  be  mingled  with 
your  thought,  affection,  joy,  and  hope.  Our  lives  became 
one.  It  was  yours  to  mark  out  our  way  through  the  world ; 
mine  to  walk  by  your  side.  The  path,  thus  far,  has  been 
a  flowery  one,  thanks  to  your  love  and  care  !  But  no 
life-path  winds  always  amid  soft  and  fragrant  meadows. 
There  are  desert  places  on  the  road,  and  steep  acclivities ; 
and  there  are  dark,  devious  valleys,  as  well  as  sunny  hill 
tops.  Pilgrims  on  the  way  to  the  Promised  Land,  we 
must  pass  through  the  Valley  and  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
and  be  imprisoned  for  a  time  in  Doubting  Castle,  before 
the  Delectable  Mountains  are  gained.  Oh,  Edward, 
murmur  not,  but  thank  God  for  the  path  he  has  shown 
us,  and  for  the  clear  light  that  falls  so  warmly  upon  it. 
These  friends,  whom  he  has  given  us  in  this  our  darkest 
hour,  are  the  truest  friends  we  have  yet  known.  Is  it 
not  a  sweet  compensation  for  all  we  lose,  to  be  near 
them  still,  and  to  have  the  good  a  kind  Father  dispenses 
come  to  us  through  their  hands  ?  Dear  husband !  in 
this  night  of  worldly  life,  a  star  of  celestial  beauty  has 
already  mirrored  itself  in  my  heart,  and  made  light  one 
of  its  hitherto  darkened  chambers." 

"Sweet  philosopher!"  murmured  her  husband,  in  a 
softened  voice.  "  A  spirit  like  yours  would  illuminate 
a  dungeon." 

"If  it  can  make  the  air  bright  around  my  hus 
band,  its  happiness  will  be  complete,"  was  softly  an 
swered. 


262  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"But  these  reverses  are  hard  to  bear,"  said  Mr. 
Markland,  soberly. 

"  Harder  in  anticipation  than  in  reality.  They  may 
become  to  us  blessings." 

"  Blessings  ?  Oh,  Agnes  !  I  am  not  able  to  see  that. 
It  is  no  light  thing  for  a  man  to  have  the  hard  accumu 
lations  of  his  best  years  swept  from  him  in  a  moment, 
and  to  find  himself,  when  just  passing  the  meridian  of 
his  life,  thrown  prostrate  to  the  earth." 

"  There  may  be  richer  treasures  lying  just  beneath 
the  surface  where  he  has  fallen,  than  in  all  the  land  of 
Ophir  toward  which  he  was  pressing  in  eager  haste," 
said  Mrs.  Markland. 

"It  may  be  so."     Markland  spoke  doubtingly. 

"It  must  be  so  !"  was  emphatically  rejoined.  "Ah, 
Edward,  have  I  not  often  warned  you  against  looking 
far  away  into  the  future,  instead  of  stooping  to  gather 
the  pearls  of  happiness  that  a  good  Providence  has  scat 
tered  so  profusely  around  us?  They  are  around  us  still." 

Markland  sighed. 

"  And  you  may  be  richer  far  than  imagination  has 
yet  pictured.  Look  not  far  away  into  the  shadowy  un 
certainties  of  coming  time  for  the  heart's  fruition.  The 
stones  from  which  its  temple  of  happiness  is  to  be 
erected,  if  ever  built,  lie  all  along  the  path  your  feet  are 
treading.  It  has  been  so  with  you  from  the  beginning — 
it  is  so  now." 

"  If  I  build  not  this  temple,  it  will  be  no  fault  of  yours," 
said  Markland,  whose  perceptions  were  becoming  clearer. 

"  Let  us  build  it  together,"  answered  his  wife.  "There 
will  be  no  lack  of  materials." 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          263 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WHEN  the  offer  of  Mr.  Walker's  cottage  was  made 
known  in  the  family,  there  was  a  passive  acquiescence  in 
the  change  on  the  part  of  all  but  Aunt  Grace.  Her  pride 
was  aroused. 

"It's  very  kind  in  Mr.  Willet,"  she  said — "very  kind, 
but  scarcely  delicate  under  the  circumstances." 

"Why  not  delicate?"  inquired  Mr.  Markland. 

"  Did  they  think  we  were  going  into  that  little  pigeon- 
box,  just  under  the  shadow  of  Woodbine  Lodge.  If  we 
have  to  come  down  so  low,  it  will  not  be  in  this  neighbour 
hood.  There's  too  much  pride  in  the  Markland  blood 
for  that !" 

"We  have  but  little  to  do  with  pride  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland. 

Her  husband  sighed.  The  remark  of  his  sister  had 
quickened  his  blood. 

"It  is  the  best  we  can  do !"  he  remarked,  sadly. 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  said  Grace.  "  There  are  other 
neighbourhoods  than  this,  and  other  houses  to  be  obtained. 
Let  us  go  from  here ;  not  remain  the  observed  of  all 
curious  observers — objects  of  remark  and  pity!" 

Her  brother  arose  while  she  was  speaking,  and  com 
menced  walking  the  room  in  a  disturbed  manner.  The 
words  of  Grace  had  aroused  his  slumbering  pride. 

"Rather  let  us  do  what  is  best  under  the  circum 
stances,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  in  her  quiet  way.  "  People 


264  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

will  have  their  own  thoughts,  but  these  should  never  turn 
us  from  a  right  course." 

"  The  sight  of  Woodbine  Lodge  will  rebuke  me  daily," 
said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  You  cannot  be  happy  in  this  neighbourhood."  Grace 
spoke  in  her  emphatic  way.  "  It  is  impossible  !" 

"  I  fear  that  it  is  even  so,"  replied  her  brother. 

"Then,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  in  a  firm  voice,  "we 
will  go  hence.  I  place  nothing  against  the  happiness 
of  my  husband.  If  the  sight  of  our  old  home  is  to 
trouble  him  daily,  we  will  put  mountains  between,  if 
necessary." 

Markland  turned  toward  his  wife.  She  had  never 
looked  more  beautiful  in  his  eye. 

"  Is  self-negation  to  be  all  on  her  part  ?"  The  thought, 
flashing  through  his  mind,  changed  the  current  of  his 
feelings,  and  gave  him  truer  perceptions. 

"No,  Agnes,"  he  said,  "while  a  faint  smile  played 
around  his  lips,  "  we  will  not  put  mountains  between  us  and 
this  neighbourhood.  Pride  is  a  poor  counsellor,  and  they 
who  take  heed  to  her  words,  sow  the  seeds  of  repentance. 
In  reverse  of  fortune,  we  stand  not  alone.  Thousands 
have  walked  this  rugged  road  before  us ;  and  shall  we 
falter,  and  look  weakly  back?" 

"Not  so,  Edward  1"  returned  his  wife,  with  enthu 
siasm  ;  "  we  will  neither  falter  nor  look  back.  Our  good 
and  evil  are  often  made  by  contrasts.  We  shall  not 
find  the  way  rugged,  unless  we  compare  it  too  closely 
with  other  ways  our  feet  have  trodden,  and  sigh  vainly 
over  the  past,  instead  of  accepting  the  good  that  is 
awarded  us  in  the  present.  Let  us  first  make  the  '  rough 


THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING.  265 

paths  of  peevish  nature  even,'  and  the  way  will  be 
smooth  to  our  feet." 

"  You  will  never  be  happy  in  this  neighbourhood, 
Edward,"  said  his  sister,  sharply;  for  she  saw  that  the 
pride  her  words  had  awakened  was  dying  out. 

"If  he  is  not  happy  here,  change  of  place  will  work 
no  difference."  Mrs.  Markland  spoke  earnestly. 

"Why  not?"  was  the  quick  interrogation  of  Grace. 

"  Because  happiness  is  rarely,  if  ever,  produced  by  a 
change  of  external  relations.  We  must  have  within  us 
the  elements  of  happiness;  and  then  the  heart's  sun 
shine  will  lie  across  our  threshold,  whether  it  be  of 
palace  or  cottage." 

"Truer  words  were  never  spoken,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
land,  "  and  I  feel  their  better  meaning.  No,  Agnes,  we 
will  not  go  out  from  this  pleasant  neighbourhood,  nor 
from  among  those  we  have  proved  to  be  friends.  If 
Woodbine  Lodge  ever  looks  upon  me  rebukingly,  I  will 
try  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of  the  rebuke.  I  will 
accept  Mr.  Willet's  kind  offer  to-morrow.  But  what 
have  you  to  say,  Fanny?"  Mr.  Markland  now  turned 
to  his  daughter,  who  had  not  ventured  a  word  on  the 
subject,  though  she  had  listened  with  apparent  interest  to 
the  conference.  "  Shall  we  take  Mr.  Walker's  cottage  ?" 

"Your  judgment  must  decide  that,  father,"  was  an 
swered. 

"But  have  you  no  choice  in  the  case,  Fanny?  We 
can  remove  into  the  city,  or  go  into  some  other  neigh 
bourhood." 

"  I  will  be  as  happy  here  as  anywhere.     Do  as  seems 

best,  father." 

23 


266  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

p 

A  silence,  made  in  a  measure  oppressive  by  Fanny's 
apparent  indifference  to  all  change,  followed.  Before 
other  words  were  spoke,  Aunt  Grace  withdrew  in  a 
manner  that  showed  a  mind  disturbed.  The  conference 
in  regard  to  the  cottage  was  again  resumed,  and  ended 
in  the  cheerful  conclusion  that  it  would  afford  them  the 
pleasantest  home,  in  their  changed  circumstances,  of  any 
that  it  was  possible  for  them  to  procure. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

PREPARATION  was  at  once  made  for  the  proposed  re 
moval.  Mr.  Walker  went  back  to  the  city,  and  the  new 
owner  of  the  cottage,  Mr.  Willet,  set  carpenters  and 
painters  at  work  to  make  certain  additions  which  he 
thought  needful  to  secure  the  comfort  of  his  tenants,  and 
to  put  every  thing  in  the  most  thorough  repair.  Even 
against  the  remonstrance  of  Mr.  Markland,  who  saw 
that  his  generous-minded  neighbour  was  providing  for 
his  family  a  house  worth  almost  double  the  rent  that 
was  to  be  paid,  he  carried  out  all  his  projected  improve 
ments. 

"You  will  embarrass  me  with  a  sense  of  obligation," 
said  Mr.  Markland,  in  seeking  to  turn  him  from  a  cer 
tain  purpose  regarding  the  cottage. 

"Do  not  say  so,"  answered  Mr.  Willet;  "I  am  only 
offering  inducements  for  you  to  remain  with  us.  If  ob 
ligation  should  rest  anywhere,  it  will  be  on  our  side.  I 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          267 

make  these  improvements  because  the  house  is  now  my 
own  property,  and  would  be  defective,  to  my  mind,  with 
out  them.  Pray,  don't  let  your  thoughts  dwell  on  these 
things." 

Thus  he  strove  to  dissipate  the  feeling  of  obligation 
that  began  to  rest  on  the  mind  of  his  unfortunate  neigh 
bour,  while  he  carried  out  his  purpose.  In  due  time, 
under  the  assignment  which  had  been  made,  Woodbine 
Lodge  and  a  large  part  of  the  elegant  and  costly  furni 
ture  contained  in  the  mansion,  were  sold,  and  the  owner 
ship  passed  into  other  hands.  With  a  meagre  remnant 
of  their  household  goods,  the  family  retired  to  a  humbler 
house.  Some  pitied,  and  stood  at  a  distance  ;  some  felt 
a  selfish  pleasure  in  their  fall ;  and  some,  who  had 
courted  them  in  their  days  of  prosperity,  were  among 
the  foremost  to  speak  evil  against  them.  But  there  were 
a  few,  and  they  the  choicest  spirits  of  the  neighbour 
hood,  who  only  drew  nearer  to  these  their  friends  in 
misfortune.  Among  them  was  Mr.  Allison,  one  of  those 
wise  old  men  whose  minds  grow  not  dim  with  advancing 
years.  He  had  passed  through  many  trying  vicissitudes, 
had  suffered,  and  come  up  from  the  ordeal  purer  than 
when  the  fire  laid  hold  upon  the  dross  of  nature. 

A  wise  monitor  had  he  been  in  Markland's  brighter 
days,  and  now  he  drew  near  as  a  comforter.  There  is 
strength  in  true  words  kindly  spoken.  How  often  was 
this  proved  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Markland,  as  their  vene 
rable  friend  unlocked  for  them  treasures  of  wisdom ! 

The  little  parlour  at  "Lawn  Cottage,"  the  name  of 
their  new  home,  soon  became  the  scene  of  frequent  re 
unions  among  choice  spirits,  whose  aspirations  went 


268  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

higher  and  deeper  than  the  external  and  visible.  In 
closing  around  Mr.  Markland,  they  seemed  to  shut  him 
out,  as  it  were,  from  the  old  world  in  which  he  had 
hoped,  and  suffered,  and  struggled  so  vainly;  and  to 
open  before  his  purer  vision  a  world  of  higher  beauty. 
In  this  world  were  riches  for  the  toiler,  and  honour  for 
the  noble — riches  and  honour  far  more  to  be  desired 
than  the  gems  and  gold  of  earth  or  its  empty  tributes 
of  praise. 

A  few  months  of  this  new  life  wrought  a  wonderful 
change  in  Markland.  All  the  better  elements  of  his 
nature  were  quickened  into  activity.  Useful  daily  em 
ployment  tranquillized  his  spirits ;  and  not  unfrequently 
he  found  himself  repeating  the  words  of  Longfellow — 

"  Something  attempted,  something  done, 
Had  earned  a  night's  repose." 

So  entirely  was  every  thing  of  earthly  fortune  wrecked, 
and  so  changed  were  all  his  relations  to  the  business 
world,  that  hope  had  yet  no  power  to  awaken  his  mind 
to  ambition.  For  the  present,  therefore,  he  was  content 
to  receive  the  reward  of  daily  toil,  and  to  be  thankful 
that  he  was  yet  able  to  supply  the  real  wants  of  his 
family.  A  cheerful  tone  of  feeling  gradually  succeeded 
the  state  of  deep  depression  from  which  he  had  suffered. 
His  spirit,  which  had  walked  in  darkness,  began  to  per 
ceive  that  light  was  breaking  in  through  the  hitherto 
impenetrable  gloom,  and  as  it  fell  upon  the  path  he  was 
treading,  a  flower  was  seen  here  and  there,  while  the 
roughness  his  imagination  had  pictured  became  not 
visible. 

Nearly  a  year  had  glided  away  since  the  wreck  of 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.  269 

Markland's  fortune,  and  little  or  no  change  in  his  worldly 
prospects  was  visible.  He  was  sitting  late,  one  evening, 
reading  aloud  to  his  wife  from  a  book  which  the  latter 
had  received  from  Mrs.  Willet.  The  rest  of  the  family 
had  retired.  Mrs.  Markland  was  plying  her  needle 
busily.  Altered  circumstances  had  made  hourly  industry 
on  her  part  a  necessity ;  yet  had  they  in  no  way  dim 
med  the  cheerful  brightness  of  her  spirits. 

"  Come,  Agnes,"  said  her  husband,  closing  the  book, 
"  it  is  growing  late ;  and  you  have  worked  long  enough. 
I'm  afraid  your  health  will  suffer." 

"Just  a  few  minutes  longer,"  replied  Mrs.  Markland, 
smiling.  "  I  must  finish  this  apron  for  Frank.  He  will 
want  it  in  the  morning."  And  her  hand  moved  quicker. 

"How  true  is  every  word  you  have  been  reading!" 
she  added,  after  a  few  moments.  "  Manifold  indeed  are 
the  ways  in  which  a  wise  Providence  dispenses  good  to 
the  children  of  men.  Mercy  is  seen  in  the  cloud  as  well 
as  in  the  sunshine.  Tears  to  the  spirit  are  like  rain  to 
the  earth." 

"The  descent  looked  frightful,"  said  Markland,  after 
a  pause — "but  we  reached  the  lower  ground  uninjured. 
Invisible  hands  seemed  to  bear  us  up." 

"We  have  found  the  land  far  pleasanter  than  was 
imagined  ;  and  the  sky  above  of  a  purer  crystal." 

"  Yes — yes.  It  is  even  so.  And  if  the  flowers  that 
spring  up  at  our  feet  are  not  so  brilliant,  they  have  a 
sweeter  perfume  and  a  diviner  beauty." 

"In  this  land,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  "we  see  in  the 
visible  things  that  surround  us  what  was  rarely  seen 

before — types  of  the  invisible  things  they  represent." 

23* 


270  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes  !  Scales  have  fallen  from  my  eyes.  I 
have  learned  a  new  philosophy.  In  former  times,  Mr. 
Allison's  words  seemed  full  of  beautiful  truths,  yet  so 
veiled,  that  I  could  not  see  their  genuine  brightness. 
Now  they  are  like  sudden  gleams  of  sunlight  on  a  dark 
ened  landscape." 

"  Seekers  after  happiness,  like  the  rest  of  the  world," 
said  Mrs.  Mark] and,  resting  her  hands  upon  the  table 
by  which  she  sat,  and,  gazing  earnestly  into  her  hus 
band's  face,  awe  had  lost  our  way,  and  were  moving 
with  swift  feet  in  the  wrong  direction.  Suddenly,  our 
kind  Father  threw  up  before  us  an  impassable  mountain. 
Then  we  seemed  shut  out  from  the  land  of  promise  for 
ever,  and  were  in  despair.  But  he  took  his  weeping, 
murmuring  children  by  the  hand,  and  led  them  gently 
into  another  path !" 

"Into  a  narrower  way" — Mr.  Markland  took  up  the 
words  of  his  wife — "  and  sought  by  few ;  yet,  it  has 
already  brought  us  into  a  pleasant  region." 

"To  speak  in  less  ideal  language,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land,  "we  have  been  taught  an  all-important  lesson.  It 
is  this :  That  there  is  over  each  one  of  us  an  intimate 
providential  care  which  ever  has  regard  to  our  eternal 
good.  And  the  reason  of  our  many  and  sad  disappoint 
ments  lies  in  the  fact,  that  we  seek  only  the  gratification 
of  natural  life,  in  which  are  the  very  elements  of  dissa 
tisfaction.  All  mere  natural  life  is  selfish  life;  and 
natural  ends  gained  only  confirm  this  selfish  life,  and 
produce  misery  instead  of  happiness." 

"  There  is  no  rest,"  said  Markland,  "  to  the  striving 
spirit  that  only  seeks  for  the  good  of  this  world.  How 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  271 

clearly  have  I  seen  this  of  late,  as  well  in  my  own  case 
as  in  that  of  others  !  Neither  wealth  nor  honour  have 
in  themselves  the  elements  of  happiness ;  and  their  in 
crease  brings  but  an  increase  of  trouble." 

"  If  sought  from  merely  selfish  ends,"  remarked  his 
wife.  "  Yet  their  possession  may  increase  our  happi 
ness,  if  we  regard  them  as  the  means  by  which  we  may 
rise  into  a  higher  life." 

There  followed  a  thoughtful  pause.  Mrs.  Markland 
resumed  her  work,  and  her  husband  leaned  his  head  back 
and  remained  for  some  minutes  in  a  musing  attitude. 

"Don't  you  think,"  he  said  at  length,  "that  Fanny 
is  growing  more  cheerful?" 

66  Oh,  yes.  I  can  see  that  her  state  of  mind  is  under 
going  a  gradual  elevation." 

"Poor  child!  What  a  sad  experience,  for  one  so 
young,  has  been  hers !  How  her  whole  character  has 
been,  to  all  seeming,  transformed.  The  light-hearted  girl 
suddenly  changed  to  a  thoughtful,  suffering  woman  !" 

"  She  may  be  a  happier  woman  in  the  end,"  said  Mrs. 
Markland. 

"Is  that  possible?" 

"  Yes.  Suffering  has  given  her  a  higher  capacity  for 
enjoyment." 

"And  for  pain,  also,"  said  Mr.  Markland. 

"  She  is  wiser  for  the  first  experience,"  was  replied. 

"  Yes,  there  is  so  much  in  her  favour.  I  wish,"  added 
Mr.  Markland,  "  that  she  would  go  a  little  more  into 
company.  It  is  not  good  for  any  one  to  live  so  secluded 
a  life.  Companionship  is  necessary  to  the  spirit's 
health." 


272  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"  She  is  not  without  companions,  or,  at  least,  a  com 
panion." 

"  Flora  Willet?" 

"Yes." 

"  Good,  as  far  as  it  goes.  Flora  is  an  excellent  girl, 
and  wise  beyond  her  years." 

"  Can  we  ask  a  better  companion  for  our  child  than 
one  with  pure  feelings  and  true  thoughts?" 

"  No.  But  I  am  afraid  Flora  has  not  the  power  to 
bring  her  out  of  herself.  She  is  so  sedate." 

"  She  does  not  lack  cheerfulness  of  spirit,  Edward." 

"Perpetual  cheerfulness  is  too  passive." 

"Her  laugh,  at  times,  is  delicious,"  said  Mrs.  Mark- 
land,  "going  to  your  heart  like  a  strain  of  music, 
warming  it  like  a  golden  sunbeam.  Flora's  cha 
racter  is  by  no  means  a  passive  one,  but  rather  the 
reverse." 

"She  is  usually  very  quiet  when  I  see  her,"  replied 
Markland. 

"  This  arises  from  an  instinctive  deference  to  those 
who  are  older." 

"Fanny  is  strongly  attached  to  her,  I  think." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  attachment  I  believe  to  be  mutual." 

"Would  not  Flora,  at  your  suggestion,  seek  to  draw 
her  gradually  forth  from  her  seclusion?" 

"We  have  talked  together  on  that  subject  several 
times,"  replied  Mrs.  Markland,  "and  are  now  trying  to 
do  the  very  thing  you  suggest." 

"With  any  prospect  of  accomplishing  the  thing  de 
sired?" 

"  I  believe  so.  There  is  to  be  company  at  Mr.  Willet 's 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  273 

next  week,  and  we  have  nearly  gained  Fanny's  consent 
to  be  present." 

"  Have  you?     I  am  indeed  gratified  to  learn  this." 

"  Flora  has  set  her  heart  on  gaining  Fanny's  consent, 
and  will  leave  no  influence  untried." 

"  Still,  Fanny's  promise  to  go  is  withheld?" 

"Yes;  but  I  have  observed  her  looking  over  her 
drawers,  and  showing  more  interest  in  certain  articles 
therein  than  she  has  evinced  for  a  long,  long  time." 

"  If  she  goes,  she  will  require  a  new  dress,"  said  Mr. 
Markland. 

"  I  think  not.  Such  preparation  would  be  too  formal 
at  present.  But,  we  can  make  that  all  right." 

"  Oh !  it  will  give  me  so  much  pleasure !  Do  not 
leave  any  influence  untried." 

"You  may  be  sure  that  we  will  not,"  answered  Mrs. 
Markland ;  "  and,  what  is  more,  you  have  little  to  fear 
touching  our  success." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  efforts  of  Flora  Willet  were  successful;  and 
Fanny  Markland  made  one  of  the  company  that  as 
sembled  at  her  brother's  house.  Through  an  almost 
unconquerable  reluctance  to  come  forth  into  the  eye  of 
the  world,  so  to  speak,  she  had  broken ;  and,  as  one 
after  another  of  the  guests  entered  the  parlours,  she 

could  hardly  repress  an  impulse  to  steal  away  and  hide 

s 


274        .  THE  GOOD  TIME   COMING. 

herself  from  the  crowd  of  human  faces  thickly  closing 
around  her.  Undesired,  she  found  herself  an  object  of 
attention ;  and,  in  some  cases,  of  clearly-expressed  sym 
pathy,  that  was  doubly  unpleasant. 

The  evening  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  Fanny  had 
left  the  company  and  was  standing  alone  in  one  of  the 
porticos,  when  a  young  man,  whose  eyes  she  had  several 
times  observed  earnestly  fixed  upon  her,  passed  near, 
walked  a  few  paces  beyond,  and  then  turning,  came  up 
and  said,  in  a  low  voice — "  Pardon  this  slight  breach  of 
etiquette,  Miss  Markland.  I  failed  to  get  a  formal  in 
troduction.  But,  as  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  that 
must  be  said,  I  am  forced  to  a  seeming  rudeness." 

Both  the  manner  and  words  of  the  stranger  so  startled 
Fanny,  that  her  heart  began  to  throb  wildly  and  her 
limbs  to  tremble.  Seeing  her  clasp  the  pillar  by  which 
she  stood,  he  said,  as  he  offered  an  arm — 

"  Walk  with  me,  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  other  end 
of  the  portico.  We  will  be  less  observed,  and  freer  from 
interruption." 

But  Fanny  only  shrunk  closer  to  the  pillar. 

"  If  you  have  any  thing  to  say  to  me,  let  it  be  said 
here,"  she  replied.  Her  trembling  voice  betrayed  her 
agitation. 

"What  I  have  to  say,  concerns  you  deeply,"  returned 
the  young  man,  "  and  you  ought  to  hear  it  in  a  calmer 
mood.  Let  us  remove  a  little  farther  from  observation, 
and  be  less  in  danger  of  interruption." 

"  Speak,  or  retire !"  said  Fanny,  with  assumed  firm 
ness,  waving  her  hand  as  she  spoke. 

But  the  stranger  only  bent  nearer. 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  275 

"  I  have  a  word  for  you  from  Mr.  Lyon,"  said  he,  in 
a  low,  distinct  whisper. 

It  was  some  moments  before  Fanny  made  answer. 
There  was  a  wild  strife  in  her  spirit.  But  the  tempest 
was  of  brief  duration.  Scarcely  a  perceptible  tremor 
was  in  her  voice,  as  she  answered, 

"It  need  not  be  spoken." 

"  Say  not  so,  Miss  Markland.  If,  in  any  thing,  you 
have  misapprehended  him — " 

"  Go,  sir  !"  And  Fanny  drew  herself  up  to  her  full 
height,  and  pointed  away  with  her  finger. 

"  Mr.  Lyon  has  ever  loved  you  with  the  most  passionate 
devotion,"  said  the  stranger.  "In  some  degree  he  is 
responsible  for  the  misfortune  of  your  father;  and  now, 
at  the  first  opportunity  for  doing  so,  he  is  ready  to  ten 
der  a  recompense.  Partly  for  this  purpose,  and  partly 
to  bear  to  you  the  declaration  of  Mr.  Lyon's  unwavering 
regard,  am  I  here." 

"He  has  wronged,  deeply  wronged  my  father,"  re 
plied  Fanny,  something  of  the  imperious  tone  and  man 
ner  with  which  she  had  last  spoken  abating.  "If 
prepared  to  make  restitution  in  any  degree,  the  way  can 
easily  be  opened." 

"Circumstances,"  was  answered,  "conspired  to  place 
him  in  a  false  position,  and  make  him  the  instrument  of 
wrong  to  those  for  whom  he  would  at  any  time  have  sacri 
ficed  largely  instead  of  becoming  the  minister  of  evil." 

"What  does  he  propose?"  asked  Fanny. 

"  To  restore  your  father  to  his  old  position.  Wood 
bine  Lodge  can  be  purchased  from  the  present  owner. 
It  may  become  your  home  again." 


276  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Fanny.     "  Let  justice  be  done." 

She  was  now  entirely  self-possessed,  bore  herself  firmly 
erect,  and  spoke  without  apparent  emotion.  Standing 
with  her  back  to  the  window,  through  which  light  came, 
her  own  face  was  in  shadow,  while  that  of  her  companion 
was  clearly  seen. 

"  Justice  will  be  done,"  replied  the  young  man,  slightly 
embarrassed  by  the  replies  of  Fanny,  the  exact  meaning 
of  which  he  did  not  clearly  perceive. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  communicate?"  said  the 
young  girl,  seeing  that  he  hesitated. 

"Not  all." 

"  Say  on,  then." 

"  There  are  conditions." 

"Ah!     Name  them." 

"  Mr.  Lyon  still  loves  you  with  an  undying  tender 
ness." 

Fanny  waved  her  hand  quickly,  as  if  rejecting  the 
affirmation,  and  slightly  averted  her  head,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"His  letters  ceased  because  he  was  in  no  state  to 
write;  not  because  there  was  any  change  in  his  feel 
ings  toward  you.  After  the  terrible  disaster  to  the 
Company,  for  which  he  has  been  too  sweepingly  blamed, 
he  could,  not  write." 

"Where  is  he  now?"  inquired  the  maiden. 

"I  am  not  yet  permitted  to  answer  such  a  question." 

There  came  a  pause. 

"What  shall  I  say  to  him  from  you?" 

"Nothing  !"  was  the  firm  reply. 

"Nothing?     Think  again,  Miss  Markland." 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  277 

"  Yes ;  say  to  him,  that  the  mirror  which  once  reflected 
his  image  in  my  heart,  is  shattered  forever." 

"Think  of  your  father,"  urged  the  stranger. 

"Go,  sir!"  And  Fanny  again  waved  her  hand  for 
him  to  leave  her.  "Your  words  are  an  offence  to  me." 

A  form  intercepted  at  this  moment  the  light  which 
came  through  one  of  the  doors  opening  upon  the  portico, 
and  Fanny  stepped  forward  a  pace  or  two. 

"Ah!  Miss  Markland,  I've  been  looking  for  you." 

It  was  Mr.  Willet.  The  stranger  moved  away  as  the 
other  approached,  yet  remained  near  enough  to  observe 
them.  Fanny  made  no  response. 

"  There  is  a  bit  of  moonlight  scenery  that  is  very 
beautiful,"  said  Mr.  Willet.  "  Come  with  me  to  the 
other  side  of  the  house." 

And  he  offered  his  arm,  through  which  Fanny  drew 
hers  without  hesitation.  They  stepped  from  the  piazza, 
and  passed  in  among  the  fragrant  shrubbery,  following 
one  of  the  garden  walks,  until  they  were  in  view  of  the 
scene  to  which  Mr.  Willet  referred.  A  heavy  bank  of 
clouds  had  fallen  in  the  east,  and  the  moon  was  just 
struggling  through  the  upper,  broken  edges,  along  which 
her  gleaming  silver  lay  in  fringes,  broad  belts,  and 
fleecy  masses,  giving  to  the  dark  vapours  below  a  deeper 
blackness.  Above  all  this,  the  sky  was  intensely  blue, 
and  the  stars  shone  down  with  a  sharp,  diamond-like 
lustre.  Beneath  the  bank  of  clouds,  yet  far  enough  in 
the  foreground  of  this  picture  to  partly  emerge  from 
obscurity,  stood,  on  an  eminence,  a  white  marble  build 
ing,  with  columns  of  porticos,  like  a  Grecian  temple. 
Projected  against  the  dark  background  were  its  classic 


278  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

outlines,  looking  more  like  a  vision  of  the  days  of  Pericles 
than  a  modern  verity. 

"  Only  once  before  have  I  seen  it  thus,"  said  Mr. 
Willet,  after  his  companion  had  gazed  for  some  time 
upon  the  scene  without  speaking,  "  and  ever  since,  it  has 
been  a  picture  in  my  memory." 

"  How  singularly  beautiful !"  Fanny  spoke  with  only 
a  moderate  degree  of  enthusiasm,  and  with  something 
absent  in  her  manner.  Mr.  Willet  turned  to  look  into 
her  face,  but  it  lay  too  deeply  in  shadow.  For  a  short 
time  they  stood  gazing  at  the  clouds,  the  sky,  and  the 
snowy  temple.  Then  Mr.  Willet  passed  on,  with  the 
maiden,  threading  the  bordered  garden  walks,  and  lin 
gering  among  the  trees,  until  they  came  to  one  of  the 
pleasant  summer-houses,  all  the  time  seeking  to  awaken 
some  interest  in  her  mind.  She  had  answered  all  his 
remarks  so  briefly  and  in  so  absent  a  manner,  that  he  was 
beginning  to  despair,  when  she  said,  almost  abruptly — 

"  Did  you  see  the  person  who  was  with  me  on  the 
portico,  when  you  came  out  just  now  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  He's  a  stranger  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Willet ;  "  and  I 
do  not  even  remember  his  name.  Mr.  Ellis  introduced 
him." 

"And  you  invited  him  to  your  house?" 

"No,  Miss  Markland.  We  invited  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ellis,  and  they  brought  him  as  their  friend." 

"Ah  !"     There  was  something  of  relief  in  her  tone. 

"But  what  of  him?"  said  Mr.  Willet.  "Why  do 
you  inquire  about  him  so  earnestly?" 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  279 

Fanny  made  no  answer. 

"  Did  he  in  any  way  intrude  upon  you  ?"  Mr.  Willet 
spoke  in  a  quicker  voice. 

"I  have  no  complaint  to  make  against  him,"  replied 
Fanny.  "And  yet  I  ought  to  know  who  he  is,  and 
where  he  is  from." 

"You  shall  know  all  you  desire,"  said  her  companion. 
"  I  will  obtain  from  Mr.  Ellis  full  information  in  regard 
to  him." 

"You  will  do  me  a  very  great  favour." 

The  rustling  of  a  branch  at  this  moment  caused  both 
of  them  to  turn  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound 
came.  The  form  of  a  man  was,  for  an  instant,  distinctly 
seen,  close  to  the  summer-house.  But  it  vanished,  ere 
more  than  the  dim  outline  was  perceived. 

"Who  can  that  be,  hovering  about  in  so  stealthy  a 
manner  ?"  Mr.  Willet  spoke  with  rising  indignation, 
starting  to  his  feet  as  he  uttered  the  words. 

"  Probably  the  very  person  about  whom  we  were  con 
versing,"  said  Fanny. 

"  This  is  an  outrage  !  Come,  Miss  Markland,  let  us 
return  to  the  house,  and  I  will  at  once  make  inquiry  of 
Mr.  Ellis  about  this  stranger." 

Fanny  again  took  the  proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Willet, 
and  the  two  went  silently  back,  and  joined  the  company 
from  which  they  had  a  little  while  before  retired.  The 
latter  at  once  made  inquiry  of  Mr.  Ellis  respecting  the 
stranger  who  had  been  introduced  to  him.  The  answers 
were  far  from  being  satisfactory. 

"He  is  a  young  man  whose  acquaintance  I  made 
about  a  year  ago.  He  was  then  a  frequent  visitor  in 


280  THE    GOOD    TIME   COMING. 

my  family,  and  we  found  him  an  intelligent,  agreeable 
companion.  For  several  months  he  has  been  spending 
his  time  at  the  South.  A  few  weeks  ago,  he  returned 
and  renewed  his  friendly  relations.  On  learning  that 
we  were  to  be  among  your  guests  on  this  occasion,  he 
expressed  so  earnest  a  desire  to  be  present,  that  we  took 
the  liberty  sometimes  assumed  among  friends,  and 
brought  him  along.  If  we  have,  in  the  least,  trespassed 
on  our  privileges  as  your  guests,  we  do  most  deeply 
regret  the  circumstance." 

And  this  was  all  Mr.  Willet  could  learn,  at  the  time, 
in  reference  to  the  stranger,  who,  on  being  sought  for, 
was  nowhere  to  be  found.  He  had  heard  enough  of  the 
conversation  that  passed  between  Mr.  Willet  and  Fanny, 
as  he  listened  to  them  while  they  sat  in  the  summer- 
house,  to  satisfy  him  that  if  he  remained  longer  at 
"  Sweetbrier,"  he  would  become  an  object  of  the  host's 
too  careful  observation. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A  FEW  weeks  prior  to  the  time  at  which  the  incidents 
of  the  preceding  chapter  occurred,  a  man,  with  a  rough, 
neglected  exterior,  and  face  almost  hidden  by  an  im 
mense  beard,  landed  at  New  Orleans  from  one  of  the 
Gulf  steamers,  and  was  driven  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel. 
His  manner  was  restless,  yet  wary.  He  gave  his  name 
as  Falkner,  and  repaired  at  once  to  the  room  assigned 
to  him. 


THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING.  281 

"  Is  there  a  boarder  in  the  house  named  Leach?"  he 
made  inquiry  of  the  servant  who  came  up  with  his  bag 
gage. 

"There  is,"  was  replied. 

"  Will  you  ascertain  if  he  is  in,  and  say  that  I  wish 
to  see  him?" 

"  What  name,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  servant. 

"  No  matter.     Give  the  number  of  my  room." 

The  servant  departed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  con 
ducted  a  man  to  the  apartment  of  the  stranger. 

"Ah  !  you  are  here  !"  exclaimed  the  former,  starting 
forward,  and  grasping  tightly  the  hand  that  was  ex 
tended  to  receive  him.  "  When  did  you  arrive  ?" 

"  This  moment." 


"  No  matter  where  from,  at  present.  Enough  that  I 
am  here."  The  servant  had  retired,  and  the  closed  door 
was  locked.  "But  there  is  one  thing  I  don't  just  like." 

"What  is  that?" 

"You  penetrated  my  disguise  too  easily." 

"I  expected  you,  and  knew,  when  inquired  for,  by 
whom  I  was  wanted." 

"  That  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  would  you  have  known 
me  if  I  had  passed  you  in  the  street  ?" 

The  man  named  Leach  took  a  long,  close  survey  of 
the  other,  and  then  replied  — 

"  I  think  not,  for  you  are  shockingly  disfigured.  How 
did  you  manage  to  get  that  deep  gash  across  your  fore 
head?" 

"  It  occurred  in  an  affray  with  one  of  the  natives  ;  I 

came  near  losing  my  life." 

24* 


282  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"A  narrow  escape,  I  should  say." 

"  It  was.  But  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  shooting  the 
bloody  rascal  through  the  heart."  And  a  grin  of  savage 
pleasure  showed  the  man's  white  teeth  gleaming  below 
the  jetty  moustache. — "Well,  you  see  I  am  here,"  he 
added,  "boldly  venturing  on  dangerous  ground." 

"So  I  see.  And  for  what ?  You  say  that  I  can 
serve  you  again ;  and  I  am  in  New  Orleans  to  do  your 
bidding." 

"You  can  serve  me,  David,"  was  answered,  with  some 
force  of  expression.  "  In  fact,  among  the  large  number 
of  men  with  whom  I  have  had  intercourse,  you  are  the 
only  one  who  has  always  been  true  to  me,  and"  (with 
a  strongly-uttered  oath)  "  I  will  never  fail  you,  in  any 
extremity." 

"  I  hope  never  to  put  your  friendship  to  any  perilous 
test,"  replied  the  other,  smiling.  "But  say  on." 

"  I  can't  give  that  girl  up.  Plague  on  her  bewitching 
face !  it  has  wrought  upon  me  a  kind  of  enchantment. 
I  see  it  ever  before  me  as  a  thing  of  beauty.  David  ! 
she  must  be  mine  at  any  sacrifice !" 

"Who  ?     Markland's  pretty  daughter  ?' ' 

"  Yes." 

"  Better  start  some  other  game,"  was  bluntly  an 
swered.  "Your  former  attempt  to  run  this  down  came 
near  ruining  everything." 

"No  danger  of  that  now.  The  ingots  are  all  safe;" 
and  the  man  gave  a  shrug. 

"  Lyon— " 

"  My  name  is  Falkner.  Don't  forget  it,  if  you  please  !" 
The  speaker  contracted  his  brows. 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  283 

"Falkner,  then.  What  I  want  to  say  is  this:  Let 
well  enough  alone.  If  the  ingots  are  safe,  permit  them 
to  remain  so.  Don't  be  foolhardy  enough  to  put  any 
one  on  the  scent  of  them." 

"  Don't  be  troubled  about  that.  I  have  sacrificed  too 
much  in  gaining  the  wealth  desired  ever  to  hold  it  with 
a  careless  or  relaxing  grasp.  And  yet  its  mere  pos 
session  brings  not  the  repose  of  mind,  the  sense  of  inde 
pendence,  that  were  so  pleasingly  foreshadowed.  Some 
thing  is  yet  lacking  to  make  the  fruition  complete.  I 
want  a  companion ;  and  there  is  only  one,  in  the  wide 
world,  who  can  be  to  me  what  I  desire." 

"Fanny  Markland?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  wish  to  make  her  your  wife  ?" 

"She  is  too  pure  to  be  happy  in  any  other  relation. 
Yes ;  I  wish  to  gain  her  for  my  bride." 

"A  thing  more  difficult  than  you  imagine." 

"  The  task  may  be  difficult ;  but,  I  will  not  believe, 
impossible." 

"  And  it  is  in  this  matter  you  desire  my  service  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  am  ready.  Point  the  way,  and  I  will  go.  Digest 
the  plan,  and  I  am  the  one  to  carry  it  out." 

"You must  go  North." 

"Very  well." 

"  Do  you  know  how  her  father  is  situated  at  present?" 

"  He  is  a  poor  clerk  in  a  jobbing-house." 

"  Indeed !     They  stripped  him  of  every  thing  ?" 

"  Yes.  Woodbine  Lodge  vanished  from  beneath  his 
feet  as  if  it  had  been  an  enchanted  island." 


284  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

"Poor  man!  I  am  sorry  for  him.  I  never  contem 
plated  so  sweeping  a  disaster  in  his  case.  But  no  one 
can  tell,  when  the  ball  leaves  his  hand,  what  sort  of  a 
strike  will  be  made.  How  does  he  bear  it,  I  wonder  r1 

"  Don't  know.  It  must  have  been  a  terrible  fall 
for  him." 

"  And  Fanny  ?  Have  you  learned  nothing  in  regard 
to  her?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Did  you  keep  up  a  correspondence  with  the  family 
whose  acquaintance  you  made  in ?" 

"  The  family  of  Mr.  Ellis  ?  No ;  not  any  regular  cor 
respondence.  We  passed  a  letter  or  two,  when  I  made 
a  few  inquiries  about  the  Marklands,  and  particularly 
mentioned  Fanny;  but  heard  no  further  from  them." 

"There  are  no  landmarks,  then  ?"  said  Lyon. 

"None." 

"  You  must  start  immediately  for  the  North.  I  will 
remain  here  until  word  comes  from  you.  Ascertain, 
first,  if  you  can,  if  there  is  any  one  connected  with  the 
Company  who  is  yet  on  the  alert  in  regard  to  myself; 
and  write  to  me  all  the  facts  you  learn  on  this  head 
immediately.  If  it  is  not  safe  to  remain  in  the  United 
States,  I  will  return  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  we  can 
correspond  from  there.  Lose  no  time  in  gaining  access 
to  Miss  Markland,  and  learn  her  state  of  mind  in  regard 
to  me.  She  cannot  fail  to  have  taken  her  father's  mis 
fortunes  deeply  to  heart ;  and  your  strongest  appeal  to 
her  may  be  on  his  behalf.  It  is  in  my  power  to  restore 
him  to  his  former  position,  and,  for  the  sake  of  his 
daughter,  if  needful,  that  will  be  done." 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  285 

"  I  comprehend  you ;  and  trust  me  to  accomplish  all 
you  desire,  if  in  human  power.  Yet  I  cannot  help  ex1 
pressing  surprise  at  the  singular  fascination  this  girl  has 
wrought  upon  you.  I  saw  her  two  or  three  times,  but 
perceived  nothing  very  remarkable  about  her.  She  is 
pretty  enough ;  yet,  in  any  company  of  twenty  women, 
you  may  pick  out  three  far  handsomer.  What  is  the 
peculiar  charm  she  carries  about  her?" 

"  It  is  nameless,  but  all-potent,  and  can  only  be  ex 
plained  psychologically,  I  suppose.  No  matter,  how 
ever.  The  girl  is  necessary  to  my  happiness,  and  I 
must  secure  her." 

"By  fair  means,  or  foul?"  His  companion  spoke  in 
quiringly. 

"  I  never  hesitate  about  the  means  to  be  employed 
when  I  attempt  the  accomplishment  of  an  object,"  was 
replied.  "If  she  cannot  be  prevailed  upon  to  come  to 
me  willingly,  stratagem — even  force — must  be  used.  I 
know  that  she  loves  me ;  for  a  woman  who  once  loves, 
loves  always.  Circumstances  may  have  cooled,  even 
hardened,  the  surface  of  her  feelings,  but  her  heart  be 
neath  is  warm  toward  me  still.  There  may  be  many 
reasons  why  she  would  not  voluntarily  leave  her  home 
for  the  one  I  promised  her,  however  magnificent ;  but, 
if  removed  without  her  own  consent,  after  the  change, 
she  may  find  in  my  love  the  highest  felicity  her  heart 
could  desire." 

"My  faith  is  not  strong,"  said  Leach,  "and  never 
has  been,  in  the  stability  of  love.  But  you  have  always 
manifested  a  weakness  in  this  direction ;  and,  I  suppose, 
it  runs  in  the  blood.  Probably,  if  you  carry  the  girl  off, 


286  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

(not  so  easy  a  thing,  by-the-way,  nor  a  safe  operation 
to  attempt,)  you  can  make  all  smooth  with  her  by  doing 
something  handsome  for  her  father." 

"No  doubt  of  it.  I  could  restore  Woodbine  Lodge 
to  his  possession,  and  settle  two  or  three  thousand  a 
year  on  him  beside." 

"Such  arguments  might  work  wonders,"  said  the  ac 
complice. 

A  plan  of  operations  was  settled  during  the  day,  and 
early  on  the  next  morning  the  friend  of  Mr.  Lyon 
started  northward. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  first  letter  received  by  Mr.  Lyon,  gave  only  a 
vague  account  of  affairs. 

"  I  arrived  yesterday,"  wrote  Leach,  "  and  entered 
upon  my  work  immediately.  The  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Ellis  has  been  renewed.  Last  evening  I  spent  with 
the  family,  and  learned  that  the  Marklands  were  living 
in  a  pleasant  little  cottage  within  sight  of  Woodbine 
Lodge;  but  could  glean  few  particulars  in  regard  to 
them.  Fanny  has  entirely  secluded  herself.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  any  thing  of  her  state  of  mind,  though 
something  about  a  disappointment  in  love  was  distantly 
intimated." 

The  next  letter  produced  considerable  excitement  in 
the  mind  of  Mr.  Lyon.  His  friend  wrote : 


THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING.  287 

"  There  is  a  person  named  Willet  living  in  the  neigh 
bourhood,  who  is  very  intimate  in  Markland's  family.  It 
is  said  by  some  that  he  more  than  fancies  the  daughter. 
As  he  is  rich,  and  of  good  reputation  and  appearance, 
he  may  be  a  dangerous  rival." 

About  a  week  later,  Leach  wrote : 

"  This  Willet,  of  whom  I  spoke,  is  the  owner  of  an 
elegant  seat  not  far  from  Markland's.  He  resides  with 
his  mother  and  sisters,  who  are  especial  favourites 
among  all  the  neighbours.  Next  week  they  give  a  large 
party.  In  all  probability  Miss  Markland  will  be  there ; 
and  I  must  contrive  to  be  there  also.  Mr.  Ellis  and  his 
family  have  recently  made  their  acquaintance,  and  have 
received  invitations.  Your  humble  servant  will  be  on 
the  ground,  if  asking  to  go  under  the  shadow  of  their 
wings  will  gain  the  favour.  He  is  not  over  modest,  you 
know.  If  Fanny  Markland  should  be  there,  depend 
upon  it,  the  golden  opportunity  will  not  pass  unimproved. 
She  shall  hear  from  you." 

Another  week  of  suspense. 

"Don't  like  the  aspect  of  affairs,"  wrote  the  friend. 
"I  was  at  Mr.  Willet's,  and  saw  Miss  Markland.  The 
whole  family  were  particularly  gracious  to  her.  It  was 
her  first  appearance  in  any  company  since  her  father's 
failure.  She  looked  pensive,  but  charming.  In  truth, 
my  friend,  she  is  a  girl  worth  the  winning,  and  no  mis 
take.  I  think  her  lovely.  Well,  I  tried  all  the  evening 
to  get  an  introduction  to  her,  but  failed,  being  a  stranger. 
Fortunately,  at  a  late  hour,  I  saw  her  leave  one  of  the 
elegant  parlours  alone,  and  go  out  upon  the  portico. 
This  was  the  opportunity,  and  I  seized  it.  Boldly  ad- 


288  THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

dressing  her,  I  mentioned,  after  a  little  play  of  words, 
your  name.  Said  I  had  a  message  from  you,  and,  as 
guardedly  as  possible,  declared  your  undying  love.  But 
I  could  not  just  make  her  out.  She  showed  great  self- 
possession  under  the  circumstances,  and  a  disposition  to 
throw  me  off.  I  don't  think  her  heart  beats  very  warmly 
toward  you.  This  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Mr. 
Willet  made  his  appearance,  and  I  drew  myself  away. 
He  said  a  few  words  to  her,  when  she  placed  her  arm 
within  his,  and  they  walked  into  the  garden  alone.  I 
followed  at  a  distance.  After  admiring  a  bit  of  moon 
light  fancy-work,  they  strayed  into  a  summer-house,  and 
I  got  close  enough  to  hear  what  they  were  talking  about ; 
I  found  that  she  was  making  particular  inquiries  as  to 
my  identity,  and  that  he  was  unable  to  give  her  the  in 
formation  she  desired.  I  did  not  feel  much  encouraged 
by  the  tone  in  which  she  alluded  to  me.  Unfortunately, 
I  rustled  a  branch  in  my  eagerness  to  catch  every  word, 
and  so  discovered  myself.  Beating  a  hasty  retreat,  I 
went  back  to  the  house,  took  my  hat,  and  quietly  re 
tired,  walking  most  of  the  way  to  the  city,  a  distance 
of  several  miles.  I  have  not  called  upon  the  family  of 
Mr.  Ellis,  and  am  still  in  doubt  whether  it  will  be  wise 
to  do  so." 

This  communication  almost  maddened  Lyon.  There 
was  evidently  a  rival  in  the  field,  and  one  who  had  over 
him  an  immense  advantage.  Impatiently  he  waited  for 
the  next  letter.  Three  days  elapsed  before  it  came. 
Tearing  open  the  envelope,  he  read — 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  much  chance  for  you.  This 
Willet  has  been  a  particular  friend  of  the  family  since 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING*          289 

their  misfortunes.  He  bought  the  cottage  in  which  they 
live,  and  offered  it  to  them  at  a  moderate  rent,  when 
almost  every  one  else  turned  from  them  coldly.  The  two 
families  have  ever  since  maintained  a  close  intimacy ; 
and  it  is  pretty  generally  thought  that  a  closer  relation 
will,  ere  long,  exist  between  them.  I  called  upon  the 
Ellis's  yesterday.  Their  reception  was  far  from  cor 
dial.  I  tried  to  be  self-possessed,  and  as  chatty  as 
usual ;  but  it  was  up-hill  work,  you  may  depend  on  it. 
Once  I  ventured  an  allusion  to  the  party  at  Willets  ;  but 
it  was  received  with  an  embarrassed  silence.  I  left  early, 
and  without  the  usual  invitation  to  repeat  my  visits.  To 
day  I  met  Mr.  Ellis  in  the  street,  and  received  from  him 
the  cut  direct !  So,  you  see,  affairs  are  not  progressing 
very  favourably ;  and  the  worst  is,  I  am  in  total  igno 
rance  of  the  real  effect  of  my  interview  with  Miss  Mark- 
land  upon  her  own  mind.  She  may  yet  retain  the  com 
munication  I  made  as  her  own  secret,  or  have  revealed 
it  to  her  father.  His  reception  of  the  matter,  if  aware 
of  what  occurred,  is  a  problem  unsolved.  I  can,  there 
fore,  only  say,  keep  as  cool  as  possible,  and  wait  as 
patiently  as  possible  a  few  days  longer,  when  you  shall 
know  the  best  or  the  worst." 

A  mad  imprecation  fell  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Lyon,  as 
he  threw  this  letter  from  him.  He  was  baffled  com 
pletely.  Two  more  days  of  wearying  suspense  went 
heavily  by,  and  then  another  letter  came  to  the  impa 
tient  waiter. 

"This  place,"  so  Leach  wrote,  "will  soon  be  too  hot 
to  hold  me,  I'm  afraid.  If  not  mistaken  in  the  signs, 

there's  something  brewing.     Twice,  to-day,  I've  been 
T  25 


290  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

inquired  for  at  the  hotel.  To-morrow  morning  early  1 
shall  prudently  change  my  quarters,  and  drop  down  to 
Washington  in  the  early  cars.  A  little  change  in  the 
external  man  can  be  effected  there.  On  the  day  after, 
I  will  return,  and,  under  cover  of  my  disguised  exterior, 
renew  operations.  But  I  can't  flatter  you  with  any  hope 
of  success.  It's  pretty  generally  believed  that  Willet 
is  going  to  marry  Fanny  Markland ;  and  the  match  is 
too  good  a  one  for  a  poor  girl  to  decline.  He  is  rich, 
educated,  honourable ;  and,  people  say,  kind  and  good. 
And,  to  speak  out  my  thoughts  on  the  subject,  I  think 
she'd  be  a  fool  to  decline  the  arrangement,  even  against 
your  magnificent  proposals.  Still,  I'm  heart  and  hand 
with  you,  and  ready  to  venture  even  upon  the  old  boy's 
dominions  to  serve  a  long-tried  friend.  There  is  one 
significant  fact  which  I  heard  to-day  that  makes  strong 
against  you.  It  is  said  that  Mr.  Willet  is  about  making 
a  change  in  his  business,  and  that  Markland  is  to  be  as 
sociated  with  him  in  some  new  arrangements.  That 
looks  as  if  matters  were  settled  between  the  two  families. 
In  my  next  letter  I  hope  to  communicate  something 
more  satisfactory." 

On  the  day  after  receiving  this  communication,  Lyon, 
while  walking  the  floor  in  one  of  the  parlours,  saw  a 
man  pass  in  from  the  street,  and  go  hurriedly  along  the 
hall.  The  form  struck  him  as  strangely  like  that  of  his 
friend  from  whom  he  was  hourly  in  expectation  of  another 
letter.  Stepping  quickly  to  the  door  of  the  room,  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  man  ascending  the  staircase. 
To  follow  was  a  natural  impulse.  Doubt  was  only  of 
brief  continuance. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  291 

"David!"  he  exclaimed,  on  reaching  his  own  apart 
ment.  "  In  the  name  of  heaven  !  what  does  this  mean?" 

"That  you  are  in  danger,"  was  replied,  in  a  tone  that 
made  the  villain's  heart  leap. 

"What  ?"    The  two  men  retired  within  the  apartment. 

"I  fear  they  are  on  our  track,"  said  Leach. 

"Who?" 

"  The  law's  fierce  bloodhounds  !" 

"No!  impossible!"  The  face  of  Lyon  grew  white 
as  ashes,  and  his  limbs  shook  with  a  sudden,  irrepressible 
tremor. 

"Speak  out  plainly,"  he  added.  "What  evidence  is 
there  of  danger  ?" 

"  In  my  last  letter,  you  will  remember,  I  expressed 
some  fear  on  this  head,  and  mentioned  my  purpose  to  go 
to  Washington  and  assume  a  disguise." 

"  I  do,  and  have  felt  troubled  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  was  off  by  the  early  train  on  the  next  morn 
ing.  As  good  or  bad  luck  would  have  it,  the  very  man 
who  sat  next  me  in  the  cars  was  an  individual  I  had  met 
in  the  family  of  Mr.  Ellis.  He  knew  me,  but  played 
shy  for  some  time.  I  pretended  not  to  recognise  him 
at  first,  but  turning  to  him  suddenly,  after  we  had  been 
under  way  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  I  said,  as  if  I  had  but 
just  become  aware  of  his  identity,  'Why,  how  are  you? 
I  did  not  know  that  I  had  an  acquaintance  by  my  side.' 
He  returned  my  warm  greeting  rather  distantly;  but 
there  was  too  much  at  stake  to  mind  this,  and  I  deter 
mined  to  thaw  him  out,  which  I  accomplished  in  due 
time.  I  found  him  a  free  sort  of  a  man  to  talk,  after  he 
got  going,  and  so  I  made  myself  quite  familiar,  and  en- 


292  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

couraged  him  to  be  outspoken.  I  knew  be  had  heard 
something  about  my  adventure  at  Mr.  Willet's,  and  de 
termined  to  get  from  him  the  stories  that  were  afloat  on 
that  subject.  All  came  in  good  time.  But  the  exagge 
ration  was  tremendous.  Fanny  had  concealed  nothing 
from  her  father,  and  he  nothing  from  Mr.  Willet.  I  was 
known  as  your  agent  and  accomplice,  and  there  was  a 
plan  concocting  to  get  possession  of  my  person,  and, 
through  me,  of  yours.  '  Take  a  friend's  advice,'  said 
the  man  to  me,  as  we  stepped  from  the  cars  at  Washing 
ton,  'and  give  a  wide  berth  in  future.'  I  did 

take  his  advice,  kept  straight  on,  and  am  here." 

"Confusion!"  The  pallid  face  of  Lyon  had  flushed 
again,  and  was  now  dark  with  congestion. 

"When  will  the  next  boat  leave  for  Vera  Cruz?"  in 
quired  Leach. 

"Day  after  to-morrow,"  was  answered. 

"We  are  in  peril  here  every  hour." 

"But  cannot  leave  earlier.  I  hope  your  fears  have 
magnified  the  danger." 

"  If  there  be  danger  at  all,  it  cannot  be  magnified. 
Let  them  once  get  you  in  their  hands,  and  they  will  de 
mand  a  fearful  retribution." 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  that,  and  do  not  mean  to  be  left 
in  their  power." 

"  The  telegraph  has,  no  doubt,  already  put  the  author 
ities  here  on  the  alert.  My  very  arrival  may  have  been 
noted.  It  will  not  do  for  us  to  be  seen  together." 

"Ha!  I  did  not  think  of  that!"  Lyon  was  more 
deeply  disturbed.  "You  had  better  go  from  here  at 
once.  Where  is  your  baggage  ?" 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING.          293 

"I  ordered  it  to  be  sent  up." 

"  Let  me  see  after  that.  At  once  pass  over  to  the 
Levee ;  go  on  board  the  first  boat  that  is  leaving,  whe 
ther  bound  up  the  river  or  for  Galveston.  Only  get  off 
from  the  city,  and  then  make  your  way  to  Mexico.  You 
will  find  me  there." 

Fear  had  now  seized  upon  both  of  the  men,  and  each 
saw  consternation  in  the  other's  face. 

"  I  am  off  at  the  word,"  said  Leach,  as  he  grasped 
the  hand  of  his  companion. 

"Be  discreet,  self-possessed,  and  wary."  Lyon  spoke 
in  a  warning  voice. 

"I  will.  And  you  take  good  heed  to  the  same  advice." 

The  men  were  yet  standing  face  to  face,  each  grasping 
the  other's  hand,  when  both  partly  turned  their  heads  to 
listen.  There  was  a  sound  of  feet  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  passage,  just  at  the  landing,  and  it  came  rapidly 
nearer.  A  breathless  pause  marked  the  deep  interest 
of  the  listeners.  A  few  moments  of  suspense,  in  which 
Lyon  and  his  companion  grew  deadly  pale,  and  then  the 
noisy  footsteps  were  silenced  at  their  very  door.  A 
smothered  sound  of  voices  was  followed  by  a  trial  of  the 
lock,  and  then  by  a  decided  rapping.  But  no  answer 
was  made  to  the  summons. 

Noiselessly,  Mr.  Lyon  drew  from  a  deep  side-pocket  a 
loaded  revolver ;  but  the  hand  of  his  companion  was 
laid  quickly  upon  his  arm,  and  his  lips,  in  dumb  show, 
gave  the  word — 

"Madness!" 

Lyon   shook   him  off,   and  deliberately  pointed   his 

weapon  toward  the  door. 

25* 


29-i  THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

st  Hallo,  there  !     Are  you  asleep  ?" 

This  loud  call  came  after  repeated  knocking  and 
rattling.  But  there  was  no  response,  nor  the  slightest 
indication  of  life  within  the  chamber. 

"  They  are  here,  I  am  certain."  These  words  were 
distinctly  heard  by  the  anxious  inmates. 

"  Then  we  must  break  in  the  door,"  was  resolutely 
answered. 

"  Oh,  for  heaven's  sake,  put  up  that  pistol!"  hoarsely 
whispered  Leach.  "  Such  resistance  will  be  fatal  evi 
dence  against  us.  Better  open  the  door  and  put  a  bold 
face  upon  it." 

"  Too  late  !"  was  just  whispered  back,  when  the  door 
flew  open  with  a  crash,  and  the  body  of  the  man  who 
had  thrown  himself  against  it  with  a  force  greatly  be 
yond  the  resistance,  fell  inward  upon  the  floor.  At  the 
same  instant,  Lyon  exclaimed,  in  a  quick,  savage  voice — 

"Back,  instantly,  or  you  are  dead  men !" 

There  was  such  a  will  in  the  words  he  uttered,  that, 
for  a  moment,  the  men,  four  in  number,  fell  back  from 
the  open  door,  and  in  that  instant  Lyon  sprung  past 
them,  and,  ere  they  could  recover  themselves,  was  beyond 
their  reach.  His  friend  made  an  attempt  to  follow,  but 
was  seized  and  made  prisoner.  The  time  spent  in  se 
curing  him  was  so  much  of  a  diversion  in  favour  of 
Lyon,  who  succeeded  in  getting  into  the  street,  ere  the 
alarm  extended  to  the  lower  part  of  the  house,  and  pass 
ing  beyond  immediate  observation.  But  escape  from 
the  city  was  impossible.  The  whole  police  force  was  on 
the  alert  in  half  an  hour,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  he 
was  captured,  disguised  as  a  sailor,  on  board  of  a  vessel 


THE    GOOD   TIME    COMING.  295 

already  cleared  and  making  ready  to  drop  down  the 
river.  He  yielded  quietly,  and,  after  being  taken  before 
the  authorities  in  the  case,  was  committed  for  hearing  in 
default  of  bail.  The  arrest  was  on  a  requisition  from 
the  governor  of  New  York. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

FANNY  had  not  hesitated  a  moment  on  the  question 
of  communicating  to  her  father  the  singular  occurrence 
at  Mr.  Willet's  ;  and  Mr.  Markland  was  prompt  not  only 
in  writing  to  two  or  three  of  the  principal  sufferers  by 
Lyon  in  New  York,  but  in  drawing  the  attention  of  the 
police  to  the  stranger  who  had  so  boldly  made  propositions 
to  his  daughter.  Two  men  were  engaged  to  watch  all 
his  movements,  and  on  no  pretence  whatever  to  lose 
sight  of  him.  The  New  York  members  of  the  Company 
responded  instantly  to  Markland's  suggestion,  and  one 
of  them  came  on  to  confer  and  act  in  concert  with  him. 
A  letter  delivered  at  the  post  office  to  the  stranger,  it 
was  ascertained,  came  by  way  of  New  Orleans.  A  re 
quisition  from  the  governor  of  New  York  to  deliver  up, 
as  a  fugitive  from  justice,  the  person  of  Lee  Lyon,  was 
next  obtained.  All  things  were  thus  brought  into  readiness 
for  action,  the  purpose  being  to  keep  two  police  officers 
ever  on  the  track  of  his  accomplice,  let  him  go  where  he 
would.  Inquiries  were  purposely  made  for  this  man  at 
the  hotel,  in  order  to  excite  a  suspicion  of  something 


296  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

wrong,  and  hasten  his  flight  from  the  city ;  and  when  he 
fled  at  last,  the  officers,  unknown  to  him,  were  in  the 
cars.  The  telegraph  gave  intelligence  to  the  police  at 
New  Orleans,  and  all  was  in  readiness  there  for  the  ar 
rival  of  the  party.  How  promptly  action  followed 
has  been  seen.  On  the  day  after  Lyon's  arrest,  he 
was  on  his  way  northward,  in  custody  of  two  officers, 
who  were  already  well  enough  acquainted  with  his 
character  to  be  ever  on  the  alert.  Several  attempts  at 
escape  were  made,  but  they  succeeded  in  delivering 
him  safely  in  New  York,  where  he  was  committed  to 
prison. 

On  the  day,  and  almost  at  the  very  hour,  when  the 
iron  doors  closed  drearily  on  the  criminal,  Fanny  Mark- 
land  was  alone  with  Mr.  Willet.  At  the  earnest  desire 
of  Flora,  she  had  gone  over  to  spend  the  afternoon  at 
"Sweetbriar."  The  brother  came  out  from  the  city  at 
dinner-time,  and  did  not  return  again — the  attractions 
of  his  fair  guest  being  more  than  he  could  resist.  There 
had  been  music  and  conversation  during  the  afternoon, 
and  all  had  been  done  by  the  family  to  render  the  visit 
of  Fanny  as  agreeable  as  possible ;  but  she  did  not  seem 
in  as  good  spirits  as  usual — her  eyes  were  dreamy,  and 
her  voice  had  in  it  a  shade  of  sadness. 

Toward  evening,  she  walked  out  with  Flora  and  her 
brother.  The  conversation  turned  on  the  beautiful  in 
nature,  and  Mr.  Willet  talked  in  his  earnest  way — every 
sentence  full  of  poetry  to  the  ears  of  at  least  one  ab 
sorbed  listener.  In  a  pause  of  the  conversation,  Flora 
left  them  and  went  back  to  the  house.  For  a  little 
while  the  silence  continued,  and  then  Mr.  Willet  said,  in 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  297 

a  tone  so  changed  that  its  echo  in  the  maiden's  heart 
made  every  pulse  beat  quicker, — 

"Fanny,  there  is  one  question  that  I  have  long  desired 
to  ask." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  face  timidly,  and  looked 
steadily  at  him  for  a  few  moments ;  then,  as  they  fell  to 
the  ground,  she  replied — 

"  You  can  ask  no  question  that  it  will  not  give  me 
pleasure  to  answer." 

"But  this,  I  fear,  will  give  you  pain,"  said  he. 

"Pain,  you  have  taught  me,  is  often  a  salutary 
discipline." 

"  True,  and  may  it  be  so  in  the  present  instance.  It 
is  not  unknown  to  me  that  Mr.  Lyon  once  held  a  place 
in  your  regard — I  will  go  farther,  and  say  in  your 
affections." 

Fanny  started,  and  moved  a  step  from  him ;  but  he 
continued — 

"  The  question  I  wish  to  ask  is,  does  there  yet  remain 
in  your  heart  a  single  point  that  gives  back  a  reflection 
of  his  image?  In  plainer  words,  is  he  any  thing  to 

O )  ? 

you  t 

"No,  nothing!"  was  the  emphatic,  almost  indignant, 
answer. 

"It  is  said,"  resumed  Mr.  Willet,  "that  you  once 
loved  him." 

"  He  came  to  me,"  replied  Fanny,  "  a  young,  artless, 
trusting  girl,  as  an  angel  of  light.  Nay,  I  was  only  a 
child,  whose  ears  were  unused  to  warmer  words  than  fell 
from  the  loving  lips  of  parents.  Suddenly,  he  opened 
before  me  a  world  of  enchantment.  My  whole  being 


298  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

was  on  fire  with  a  delicious  passion.  I  believed  him  true 
and  good,  and  loved  him,  because,  in  my  eyes,  he  was 
the  embodiment  of  all  human  perfections.  But  time 
proved  that  I  had  only  loved  an  enchanting  ideal,  and 
my  heart  rejected  him  with  intense  loathing." 

"Enough,"  said  Willet;  "  I  feel  that  it  must  be  so." 

The  two  remained  silent  for  the  space  of  nearly  a 
minute ;  Mr.  Willet  then  resumed — 

"  Forgive  me  if  my  question  has  seemed  indelicate, 
and  be  assured  that  I  asked  it  from  no  idle  curiosity. 
Let  me  go  a  little  farther ;  and,  my  dear  young  lady, 
retain  your  calmness  of  spirit.  Look  into  your  heart, 
but  keep  every  pulsation  under  control.  Since  our  first 
meeting,  I  have  felt  a  deep  interest  in  you.  What  you 
have  suffered  has  pained  me  seriously ;  but  the  pain  has 
given  way  to  pleasure,  for  out  of  the  fire  you  have  come 
up  pure  and  strong,  Fanny !  I  have  but  one  word  more 
— there  is  a  sacred  place  in  my  heart,  and  your  image 
has  long  been  the  inhabitant.  Here  is  my  hand — will 
you  lay  your  own  within  it,  that  I  may  grasp  it  as  mine 
for  life  ?" 

Willet  extended  his  hand  as  he  spoke.  There  was 
only  a  moment's  hesitation  on  the  part  of  Fanny,  who 
stood  with  her  head  bent  so  far  down  that  the  expression 
of  her  face  could  not  be  seen.  Raising  her  eyes  in 
which  joy  shone  through  blinding  tears,  she  extended  her 
hand,  which  was  seized,  grasped  tightly  for  an  instant, 
and  then  covered  with  kisses. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  299 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

No  sooner  was  Lyon  completely  in  the  power  of  the 
men  he  had  wronged  to  an  extent  that  left  no  room  for 
mercy,  than  he  made  offers  of  compromise.  A  public 
trial  involved  not  only  public  disgrace,  but  he  had  too 
good  reasons  to  fear  conviction  and  penal  retribution. 
This  was  the  greatest  evil  he  had  to  dread,  and  so  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  part  with  at  least  a  portion  of  his 
ill-gotten  gains.  Interview  after  interview  was  held  with 
the  parties  representing  the  Company  for  which  he  had 
been  agent,  and  a  final  arrangement  made  for  the  resti 
tution  of  about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars — his 
release  not  to  take  place  until  the  money,  or  its  value, 
was  in  the  hands  of  his  creditors.  Nearly  three  months 
passed  in  efforts  to  consummate  this  matter,  and  at  last 
the  sum  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  dollars  was 
obtained,  and  the  miserable,  disgraced  man  set  free. 
He  went  forth  into  the  world  again  with  the  bitterness 
of  a  life-disappointment  at  his  heart,  and  a  feeling  of 
almost  murderous  hate  against  the  men  whose  confidence 
he  had  betrayed,  and  who  obtained  from  him  only  a 
partial  recompense. 

Of  the  sum  restored,  there  fell  to  Mr.  Mainland's 
share  about  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  Its  possession 
quickened  in  his  heart  the  old  ambitious  spirit,  and  he 
began  to  revolve  in  his  thoughts  the  ways  and  means  of 


300  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

recovering,  by  aid  of  this  remnant  of  his  fortune,  the 
wealth  which  a  scheming  villain  had  wrested  from  his 
grasp.  Mr.  Willet,  whose  marriage  with  his  daughter 
was  on  the  eve  of  taking  place,  had  made  to  him  certain 
proposals  in  regard  to  business,  that  promised  a  sure  but 
not  particularly  brilliant  return.  All  the  required  capi 
tal  was  to  be  furnished.  He  had  not  yet  accepted  this 
offer,  but  was  about  doing  so,  when  expectation  ended 
in  certainty,  and  his  proportion  of  the  money  recovered 
from  Lyon  was  paid  into  his  hands. 

A  rapid  change  of  feelings  and  plans  was  the  conse 
quence.  On  the  day  that  checks  covering  the  whole 
sum  awarded  to  Mr.  Markland  were  received  from  New 
York,  he  returned  early  in  the  afternoon  from  the  city, 
his  mind  buoyant  with  hope  in  the  future.  As  the  cars 
swept  around  a  particular  curve  on  approaching  the 
station  at  which  he  was  to  alight,  "Woodbine  Lodge" 
came  in  full  view,  and  with  a  sudden  impulse  he  ex 
claimed,  "It  shall  be  mine  again  !" 

"  The  man  is  not  all  crushed  out  of  me  yet !"  There 
was  a  proud  swelling  of  the  heart  as  Markland  said 
this.  He  had  stepped  from  the  cars  at  the  station,  and 
with  a  firmer  step  than  usual,  and  a  form  more  erect, 
was  walking  homeward.  Lawn  Cottage  was  soon  in  view, 
nestling  peacefully  amid  embowering  trees.  How  many 
times  during  the  past  year  had  a  thankful  spirit  given 
utterance  to  words  of  thankfulness,  as,  at  day's  decline, 
his  homeward  steps  brought  in  view  this  pleasant  hiding- 
place  from  the  world  !  It  was  different  now :  the  spot 
wore  a  changed  aspect,  and,  comparatively,  looked  small 
and  mean,  for  his  ideas  had  suddenly  been  elevated 


TIIE   GOOD    TIME   COMING.  301 

toward  "Woodbine  Lodge,"  and  a  strong  desire  for  its 
re-possession  had  seized  upon  him. 

But  if,  to  his  disturbed  vision,  beauty  had  partially 
faded  from  the  external  of  his  home,  no  shadow  dimmed 
the  brightness  within.  The  happy  voices  of  children 
fell  in  music  on  his  ears,  and  small  arms  clasping  his 
neck  sent  electric  thrills  of  gladness  to  his  heart.  And 
how  full  of  serene  joy  was  the  face  of  his  wife,  the 
angel  of  his  home,  as  she  greeted  his  return,  and 
welcomed  him  with  words  that  never  disturbed,  but 
always  tranquillized ! 

"There  is  a  better  time  coming,  Agnes,"  he  said  in 
an  exultant  voice,  when  they  were  alone  that  evening. 
He  had  informed  her  of  the  settlement  of  his  affairs  in 
New  York,  and  reception  of  the  sum  which  had  been 
awarded  to  him  in  the  division  of  property  recovered 
from  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  A  better  time,  Edward?"  said  Mrs.  Markland.  She 
seemed  slightly  startled  at  his  words,  and  looked  half 
timidly  into  his  face. 

"Yes,  a  better  time,  love.  I  have  too  long  been 
powerless  in  the  hands  of  a  stern  necessity,  which  has 
almost  crushed  the  life  out  of  me ;  but  morning  begins 
to  break,  the  night  is  passing,  and  my  way  in  the  world 
grows  clear  again." 

"In  the  world,  or  through  the  world?"  asked  Mrs. 
Markland,  in  a  voice  and  with  an  expression  of  counte 
nance  that  left  her  meaning  in  no  doubt. 

He  looked  at  her  for  several  moments,  his  face  chang 
ing  until  the  light  fading  left  it  almost  shadowed. 

"Edward,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  leaning  toward  him, 
26 


302  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

and  speaking  earnestly,  but  lovingly,  "you  look  for  a 
better  time.  How  better?  Are  we  not  happy  here? 
Nay,  did  we  ever  know  more  of  true  happiness  than 
since  we  gathered  closer  together  in  this  pleasant  home  ? 
Have  we  not  found  a  better  time  in  a  true  appreciation 
of  the  ends  of  life  ?  Have  we  not  learned  to  live,  in 
some  feeble  degree,  that  inner  and  higher  life,  from  the 
development  of  which  alone  comes  the  soul's  tranquillity  ? 
Ah,  Edward,  do  not  let  go  of  these  truths  that  we  have 
learned.  Do  not  let  your  eyes  become  so  dazzled  by 
the  splendour  of  the  sun  of  this  world  as  to  lose  the 
power  to  see  into  the  inner  world  of  your  spirit,  and 
behold  the  brighter  sun  that  can  make  all  glorious 
there." 

Markland  bent  his  head,  and  for  a  little  while  a  feeling 
of  sadness  oppressed  him.  The  hope  of  worldly  eleva 
tion,  which  had  sprung  up  with  so  sudden  and  brilliant  a 
flame,  faded  slowly  away,  and  in  its  partial  death  the 
pains  of  dissolution  were  felt.  The  outer,  visible, 
tangible  world  had  strong  attractions  for  his  natural 
mind ;  and  its  wealth,  distinctions,  luxuries,  and  honours, 
looked  fascinating  in  the  light  of  his  natural  affections ; 
yet  glimpses  had  already  been  given  to  him  of  another 
world  of  higher  and  diviner  beauty.  He  had  listened, 
entranced,  to  its  melodies,  that  came  as  from  afar  off;  its 
fragrant  airs  had  awakened  his  delighted  sense ;  he  had 
seen,  as  in  a  vision,  the  beauty  of  its  inhabitants,  and 
now  the  words  of  his  wife  restored  all  to  his  remem 
brance. 

"  The  good  time  for  which  all  are  looking,  and  toiling, 
and  waiting  so  impatiently,"  said  Mrs.  Markland,  after 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  303 

a  pause,  "  will  never  come  to  any  unless  in  a  change  of 
affection." 

"  The  life  must  be  changed." 

"  Yes,  or,  in  better  words,  the  love.  If  that  be  fixed 
on  mere  outward  and  natural  things,  life  will  be  only  a 
restless  seeking  after  the  unattainable — for  the  natural 
affections  only  grow  by  what  they  feed  upon — desire 
ever  increasing,  until  the  still  panting,  unsatisfied  heart 
has  made  for  itself  a  hell  of  misery." 

"  Thanks,  angel  of  my  life !"  returned  Markland,  as 
soon  as  he  had,  in  a  measure,  recovered  himself. 
"Even  the  painful  lessons  I  have  been  taught  would 
fade  from  my  memory,  but  for  thee  !" 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A  FEW  weeks  later,  and  "Lawn  Cottage"  was  the 
scene  of  an  event  which  made  the  hearts  of  its  inmates 
glad  even  to  tears.  That  event  was  the  marriage  of 
Fanny.  From  the  time  of  her  betrothment  to  Mr.  Willet, 
a  new  life  seemed  born  in  her  spirit  and  a  new  beauty 
stamped  upon  her  countenance.  All  around  her  was 
diffused  the  heart's  warm  sunshine.  As  if  from  a  long, 
bewildering,  painful  dream,  she  had  awakened  to  find 
the  morning  breaking  in  serene  beauty,  and  loving  arms 
gathered  protectingly  around  her.  The  desolating  tem 
pest  had  swept  by;  and  so  brilliant  was  the  sunshine,  and 
so  clear  the  bending  azure,  that  night  and  storms  were 
both  forgotten. 


304  THE   GOOD   TIME    COMING. 

Old  Mr.  Allison  was  one  of  the  few  guests,  outside  of 
the  families,  who  were  present  at  the  nuptial  ceremonies. 
The  bride — in  years,  if  not  in  heart-experience,  yet  too 
young  to  enter  upon  the  high  duties  to  which  she  had 
solemnly  pledged  herself — looked  the  embodied  image  of 
purity  and  loveliness. 

"Let  me  congratulate  you,"  said  the  old  man,  sitting 
down  beside  Mr.  Markland,  and  grasping  his  hand,  after 
the  beautiful  and  impressive  ceremony  was  over  and  the 
husband's  lips  had  touched  the  lips  of  his  bride  and 
wife.  "  And  mine  is  no  ordinary  congratulation,  that 
goes  scarcely  deeper  than  words,  for  I  see  in  this  mar 
riage  the  beginning  of  a  true  marriage ;  and  in  these 
external  bonds,  the  image  of  those  truer  spiritual  bonds 
which  are  to  unite  them  in  eternal  oneness." 

"What  an  escape  she  made!"  responded  the  father, 
a  shudder  running  through  his  frame,  as  there  arose 
before  him,  at  that  instant,  a  clear  recollection  of  the 
past,  and  of  his  own  strange,  consenting  blindness. 

"The  danger  was  fearful,"  replied  Mr.  Allison,  who 
understood  the  meaning  of  the  words  which  had  just  been 
uttered.  "But  it  is  past  now." 

"Yes,  thanks  to  the  infinite  wisdom  that  leads  us 
back  into  right  paths.  Oh !  what  a  life  of  unimagined 
wretchedness  would  have  fallen  to  her  lot,  if  all  my 
plans  and  hopes  had  been  accomplished !  Do  you  know, 
Mr.  Allison,  that  I  have  compared  my  insane  purposes 
in  the  past  to  that  of  those  men  of  old  who  made  their 
children  pass  through  the  fire  to  Moloch?  I  set  up  an 
idol — a  bloody  Moloch — and  was  about  sacrificing  to  it 
my  child !" 


THE    GOOD   TIME   COMING.  305 

"  There  is  One  who  sits  above  the  blinding  vapours 
of  human  passion,  and  sees  all  ends  from  the  beginning ; 
One  who  loves  us  with  an  infinite  tenderness,  and  leads 
us,  even  through  struggling  resistance,  back  to  the  right 
paths,  let  us  stray  never  so  often.  Happy  are  we,  if, 
when  the  right  paths  are  gained,  we  walk  therein  with 
willing  feet.  Mr.  Markland,  your  experiences  have 
been  of  a  most  painful  character;  almost  crushed  out 
has  been  the  natural  life  that  held  the  soaring  spirit 
fettered  to  the  perishing  things  of  this  outer  world ;  but 
you  have  felt  that  a  new  and  better  life  has  been  born 
within  you,  and  have  tasted  some  of  its  purer  pleasures. 
Oh,  sir !  let  not  the  life  of  this  world  extinguish  a  fire 
that  is  kindled  for  eternity." 

"  How  wonderfully  has  the  infinite  mercy  saved  me 
from  myself!"  returned  Mr.  Markland.  "Wise,  skilful 
in  the  ways  of  the  world,  prudent,  and  far-seeing  in  my 
own  estimation,  yet  was  I  blind,  ignorant,  and  full  of 
strong  self-will.  I  chose  my  own  way  in  the  world, 
dazzled  by  the  false  glitter  of  merely  external  things.  I 
launched  my  bark,  freighted  with  human  souls,  boldly 
upon  an  unknown  sea,  and,  but  for  the  storms  that  drove 
me  into  a  sheltered  haven,  would  have  made  a  fearful 
wreck." 

"Then  sail  not  forth  again,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  "un 
less  you  have  divine  truth  as  your  chart,  and  heaven's 
own  pilot  on  board  your  vessel.  It  is  still  freighted  with 
human  souls." 

"A  fearful  responsibility  is  mine."  Mr.  Markland 
spoke  partly  to  himself. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  old  man;  "for  into  your  keeping 

U  26* 


306  THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING. 

immortal  spirits  have  been  committed.  It  is  for  them, 
not  for  yourself,  that  you  are  to  live.  Their  good,  not 
your  own  pleasure,  is  to  be  sought." 

"Ah,  if  I  had  comprehended  this  truth  years  ago!" 
Markland  sighed  as  he  uttered  the  words. 

"This  is  too  happy  an  occasion,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  in 
a  cheerful  voice,  "  to  be  marred  by  regrets  for  the  past. 
They  should  never  be  permitted  to  bear  down  our  spirits 
with  sadness.  The  bright  future  is  all  before  us,  and 
the  good  time  awaiting  us  if  we  but  look  for  it  in  the 
right  direction." 

"And  where  are  we  to  look  for  it,  Mr.  Allison  ?  Which 
is  the  right  direction?" 

"Within  and  heavenward,"  was  answered,  with  a  smile 
so  radiant  that  it  made  the  wan  face  of  the  old  man 
beautiful.  "  Like  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  this  good  time 
comes  not  by  ' observation;'  nor  with  a  'lo,  here!'  and 
a  4lo,  there  !'  It  must  come  within  us,  in  such  a  change 
of  our  ruling  affections,  that  all  things  good  and  true, 
which  are  real  and  eternal  verities,  shall  be  the  highest 
objects  of  love ;  for  if  we  love  things  that  are  real  and 
abiding,  and  obtain  as  well  as  love  them,  our  happiness 
is  complete." 

"  Thanks  for  the  many  lessons  of  wisdom  I  have  re 
ceived  from  your  lips,"  replied  Mr.  Markland.  "Well 
would  it  have  been  for  me  if  I  had  earlier  heeded  them. 
But  the  ground  was  not  hitherto  prepared.  Now,  after 
the  rank  weeds  have  been  removed,  the  surface  broken 
by  many  furrows,  and  the  ground  watered  with  tears, 
good  seed  is  falling  into  its  bosom." 

"May  it  bring  forth  good  fruit — some  thirty,  some 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  307 

sixty,  and  some  an  hundred-fold!"  was  said,  low  and 
fervently,  by  the  aged  monitor ;  and,  in  the  pause  that 
followed,  his  ear  caught  a  whispered  "Amen." 


And  the  good  seed  did  spring  up  in  this  good  ground, 
and  good  fruit  came  in  the  harvest  time.  Strongly 
tempted,  indeed,  was  Mr.  Markland,  by  his  love  of  the 
world,  and  the  brilliant  rewards  it  promised  to  the  suc 
cessful,  to  enter  a  bold  combatant  in  its  crowded  arena ; 
but  there  were  wise  and  loving  counsellors  around  him, 
and  their  words  were  not  unheeded.  Instead  of  aspiring 
after  "Woodbine  Lodge,"  he  was  content  to  purchase 
"Lawn  Cottage,"  and  invest  the  remainder  of  what  he 
had  received  in  property  that  not  only  paid  him  a  fair 
interest,  but  was  increasing  in  value.  The  offer  of  Mr. 
Willet  to  enter  into  business  was  accepted,  and  in  this  his 
gains  were  sufficient  to  give  him  all  needed  external  com 
forts,  and  a  reasonable  prospect  of  moderate  accumulation. 

How  peacefully  moved  on  again  the  pure  stream  of 
Mrs.  Markland's  unambitious  life !  If  her  way  through 
the  world  was  not  so  thickly  bordered  with  brilliant 
flowers,  humbler  blossoms  lined  it,  and-she  gathered  as 
sweet  honey  from  these  as  ever  from  their  gayer  sisters. 
She,  too,  had  grown  wiser,  and  could  read  the  pages 
of  a  book  whose  leaves  she  had  once  turned  vainly, 
searching  for  truth. 

Even  Aunt  Grace  was  beginning  to  feel  that  there  were 
some  things  in  the  world  not  dreamed  of  in  her  common- 
sense  philosophy.  She  looked  on  thoughtfully,  ponder 
ing  much  of  what  she  heard  and  saw,  in  her  heart.  She 
had  ceased  to  speak  about  the  annoyance  of  having 


308  THE    GOOD    TIME    COMING. 

"Woodbine  Lodge"  "forever  staring  down,"  with  a  kind 
of  triumph,  upon  them ;  though  it  was  hard  for  her,  at 
all  times,  to  rise  above  this  weakness.  The  "Markland 
blood,"  as  she  said,  was  too  strong  within  her.  What 
puzzled  her  most  was  the  cheerful  heart  of  her  brother, 
and  the  interest  he  took  in  many  things  once  scarcely 
noticed.  Formerly,  when  thought  went  beyond  himself, 
its  circumference  was  limited  by  the  good  of  his  own 
family ;  but  now,  he  gave  some  care  to  the  common 
good,  and  manifested  a  neighbourly  regard  for  others. 
He  was.  looking  in  the  right  direction  for  "that  good 
time  coming,"  and  the  light  of  a  better  morning  was 
breaking  in  upon  his  spirit. 

As  years  progressed,  the  day  grew  broader,  and  the 
light  of  the  morning  became  as  the  light  of  noonday. 
And  as  it  was  with  him  and  his,  so  may  it  be  with  us 
all.  In  each  of  our  hearts  is  a  dissatisfied  yearning  to 
ward  the  future,  and  a  looking  for  a  brighter  day  than 
any  that  has  yet  smiled  down  upon  us.  But  this  brighter 
day  will  never  dawn  except  in  the  world  of  our  spirits. 
It  is  created  by  no  natural  sun  of  fire,  but  by  the  sun 
of  divine  love.  In  vain,  then,  do  we  toil  and  struggle, 
and  press  forward  in  our  journey  through  the  world, 
fondly  believing  that  in  wealth,  honour,  or  some  more 
desired  external  good,  the  soul's  fruition  will  be  gained. 
The  immortal  spirit  will  never  be  satisfied  with  these 
things ;  and  the  good  time  will  never  come  to  the  erring 
seeker. 

THE   END. 


CATALOGUE 

OF 

VALUABLE  AND   INTERESTING  WORKS, 


PUBLISHED   AND    SOLD   BY 

J.  W.  BRADLEY,  48  North  4th  St.,  Philadelphia; 
L.  P.  CROWN  &  Co.,  61  Cornhill,  Boston; 

M.  BRADLEY,  24  High  St.,  New  Haven ;  and 
H.  A.  YATES,  57  Genesee  St.,  Auburn,  N.  Y. 

They  are  printed  on  fine  white  paper,  and  bound  in 
the  most  substantial  manner.  They  include  the  best 
works  written  by  T.  S.  ARTHUR,  the  most  popular  of 
living  authors.  Over  100,000  of  his  books  are  sold  an 
nually. 

ARTHUR'S   SKETCHES  OF  LIFE  AND  CHA- 

RACTER.    An  octavo  volume  of  over  400  pages,  beautifully 
illustrated,  and  bound  in  the  best  English  muslin,  gilt.   $2.00. 

KOTICES    OP   THE    PRESS. 

The  present  volume,  containing  more  than  four  hundred  finely 
printed  octavo  pages,  is  illustrated  by  splendid  engravings,  and 
made  particularly  valuable  to  those  who  like  to  "  see  the  face  of 
him  they  talk  withal,"  by  a  correct  likeness  of  the  author,  finely 
engraved  on  steel. — Neal'a  Gazette. 
1 


2 

Iu  the  princely  mansions  of  the  Atlantic  merchants,  and  in  the 
rude  log-cabins  of  the  backwoodsmen,  the  name  of  Arthur  is 
equally  known  and  cherished  as  the  friend  of  virtue. — Graham' • 
Magazine. 

We  would  not  exchange  our  copy  of  these  sketches,  with  its 
Btory  of  "  The  Methodist  Preacher,"  for  any  one  of  the  gilt-edged 
and  embossed  annuals  which  we  have  yet  seen. — Lady's  National 
Magazine. 

The  first  story  in  the  volume,  entitled  "  The  Methodist  Preacher, 
or  Lights  and  Shadows  in  the  Life  of  an  Itinerant,"  is  alone 
worth  the  price  of  the  work. — Evening  Bulletin. 

It  is  emphatically  a  splendid  work. — Middletown  Whig. 

Its  worth  and  cheapness  should  place  it  in  every  person's  hands 
who  desire  to  read  an  interesting  book. — Odd  Fellow,  Boonsboro'. 

"The  Methodist  Preacher,"  "Seed-Time  and  Harvest,"  "Dyed 
in  the  Wool,"  are  full  of  truth  as  well  as  instruction,  and  any  one 
of  them  is  worth  the  whole  price  of  the  volume. — Lowell  Day- 
star,  Rev.  D.  G.  Eddy,  Editor. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  these  sketches  which  so  powerfully 
interests  the  reader,  that  few  who  commence  one  of  them  will 
part  with  it  till  it  is  concluded;  and  they  will  bear  reading  re 
peatedly. — Norfolk  and  Portsmouth  Herald. 

Those  who  have  not  perused  these  model  stories  have  a  rich 
feast  in  waiting,  and  we  shall  be  happy  if  we  can  be  instrumental 
in  pointing  them  to  it — Family  Visitor,  Madison,  Geo. 

No  library  for  family  reading  should  be  considered  complete 
without  this  volume,  which  is  as  lively  and  entertaining  in  its 
character  as  it  is  salutary  in  its  influence. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

The  work  is  beautifully  illustrated.  Those  who  are  at  all  ac 
quainted  with  Arthur's  writings  need  hardly  be  told  that  the  pre 
sent  work  is  a  prize  to  whoever  possesses  it. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

We  know  no  better  book  for  the  table  of  any  family,  whether 
regarded  for  its  neat  exterior  or  valuable  contents. —  Vox  Populi, 
Lowell. 

The  name  of  the  author  is  in  itself  a  sufficient  recommenda 
tion  of  the  work. — Lawrence  Sentinel. 

T.  S.  Arthur  is  one  of  the  best  literary  writers  of  the  age.— 
Watchman,  Circleville,  Ohio. 

The  name  alone  of  the  author  is  a  sufficient  guaranty  to  the 


reading  public  of  its  surpassing  merit. — The  Argus,  Gallatin, 
Miss. 

Probably  he  has  not  written  a  line  which,  dying,  he  could  wish 
to  erase. — Parkersburg,  (  Fa.)  Gazette. 

LIGHTS    AND  SHADOWS    OF   REAL    LIFE, 

with  an  autobiography  and  portrait  of  the  author,  over  500 
pages  octavo,  with  fine  tinted  engravings.     $2.00. 

NOTICES    OP   THE    PRESS. 

In  this  volume  may  be  found  a  "moral  suasion,"  which  cannot 
but  afiect  for  good  all  who  read.  The  mechanical  execution  of 
the  work  is  very  beautiful  throughout. — New  Haven  Palladium. 

It  is  by  far  the  most  valuable  book  ever  published  of  his 
works,  inasmuch  as  it  is  enriched  with  a  very  interesting,  though 
brief  autobiography. — American  Courier. 

No  family  library  is  complete  without  a  copy  of  this  book. — 
Scotfs  Weekly  Paper. 

No  better  or  worthier  present  could  be  made  to  the  young;  no 
offering  more  pure,  charitable,  and  practicable  could  be  tendered 
to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  truly  benevolent  reforms  of  the 
day. — Godey's  Lady's  Book. 

The  paper,  the  engravings,  the  binding,  and  the  literary  con 
tents,  are  all  calculated  to  make  it  a  favourite. — Perm.  Inquirer. 

This  volume  cannot  be  too  highly  recommended. — N.  Y.  Tri 
bune. 

More  good  has  been  effected,  than  by  any  other  single  medium 
that  we  know  of.— N.  Y.  Sun. 

The  work  should  be  upon  the  centre-table  of  every  parent  in 
the  land. — National  Temperance  Magazine. 

LEAVES  FROM  THE  BOOK  OF  HUMAN  LIFE, 

Large  12mo.    328  pages.    With  30  illustrations  and  steel 
plate.    $1.00. 

NOTICES   OP  THE   PRESS. 

A  single  story  is  worth  the  price  charged  for  the  book. — f/mon, 
Newburyport,  Mass. 


GOLDEN  GKAINS  FROM  LIFE'S  HARVEST- 

FIELD,  bound  in  full  gilt,  with  a  beautiful  mezzotint  engrar- 
ing.  12mo.  240  pages.  75  cts. 

NOTICES   OP  THE   PRESS. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  the  Golden  Grains  here  pre 
sented  to  the  reader,  are  such  as  will  be  productive  of  a  far 
greater  amount  of  human  happiness  than  those  in  search  of  which 
so  many  are  willing  to  risk  domestic  peace,  health,  and  even  life 
itself,  in  a  distant  and  inhospitable  region. 

These  narratives,  like  all  of  those  which  proceed  from  the  same 
able  pen,  are  remarkable  not  only  for  their  entertaining  and 
lively  pictures  of  actual  life,  but  for  their  admirable  moral  ten 
dency. 

It  is  printed  in  excellent  style,  and  embellished  with  a  mezzo 
tint  engraving.  We  cordially  recommend  it  to  the  favour  of  our 
readers. — Godey's  Lady's  Magazine. 

TEN  NIGHTS  IN  A  BAR  ROOM,  AND  WHAT  I 

SAW  THERE.  This  powerfully  written  work,  the  last  and 
best  by  its  popular  Author,  is  meeting  with  immense  sales, — 
ten  thousand  copies  having  been  ordered  within  a  month  of 
publication.  Young  men  wishing  to  do  good,  and  at  the  same 
time  make  money,  will  find  a  rare  chance  in  selling  this  book. 
It  is  a  large  12mo,  of  240  pages,  illustrated  with  a  beautiful 
mezzotint  engraving,  by  Sartain;  printed  on  fine  white  pa 
per,  and  bound  in  the  best  English  muslin,  gilt  back,  and  sold 
at  75  cents.  In  extra  full  gilt  edge,  back  and  sides,  $1.00. 

THE  FOLLOWING  ARE  A  FEW  OF  THE  MANY  NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS: 

This  is  a  temperance  volume,  written  in  the  author's  plain, 
heart-searching  style. — Dollar  Newspaper. 

This  volume  is  the  last  of  those  admirable  temperance  tales,  by 
which  the  author  is  doing  and  has  done  so  much  good. — Evening 
Bulletin. 

Powerful  and  seasonable. — N.  Y.  Independent. 


Its  scenes  are  painfully  graphic,  and  furnish  thrilling  argu 
ments  for  the  temperance  cause. — Norton's  Lit.  Gazette. 

Written  in  the  author's  most  forcible  and  vigorous  style.— 
fahigh  Vol.  Times. 

In  the  "Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-room,"  some  of  the  consequences 
»f  tavern-keeping,  the  "sowing  of  the  -wind"  and  "reaping  the 
wLirlwind"  are  followed  by  a  "  fearful  consummation,"  and  the 
"closing  scene,"  presenting  pictures  of  fearful,  thrilling  interest. 
One  touching  passage  supplies  the  beautiful  mezzotint  illustra 
tions  by  Sartain. — Am.  Courier. 

The  sketches  are  powerfully  written,  to  show  the  downward 
career  of  the  tempter  and  the  tempted,  and  the  inevitable  ruin 
which  must  follow.  There  is  no  exaggeration  in  these  pages — 
they  seem  to  have  been  filled  up  from  actual  observation.  Mr. 
Arthur  has  given  efficient  aid  to  the  cause  of  reform  by  these  in 
tensely  interesting  sketches,  and  we  predict  for  them  an  exten 
sive  sale. — Philadelphia  Sun. 

The  exciting  influences  of  the  wine  cup,  its  consequent  respon 
sibility,  and  the  inevitable  results  accruing  from  a  free  indulgence 
in  the  intoxicating  draught,  are  not  only  truthfully,  but  vividly 
portrayed  in  the  author's  best  style. — Daily  News. 

This  is  a  strong  temperance  book,  from  the  prolific  pen  of  a 
popular  writer. —  U.  S.  Journal. 

We  are  glad  to  see  Mr.  Arthur  again  in  the  temperance  field. 
He  has  long  been  one  of  our  best  writers. — Journal  Am.  Tern. 
Union. 

Arthur's  tales  usually  bear  a  character  of  simplicity  and  truth 
fulness  possessing  strong  attractions  for  the  generality  of  readers, 
and  especially  for  those  in  the  daily  enjoyment  of  country  life. 
He  seldom  seems  to  study  for  effect,  except  it  be  in  closely  por 
traying  real  life.  In  these  aspects  the  work  before  us  is  emi 
nently  successful. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

The  book  exhibits  many  of  the  horrors  of  bar-room  life,  with- 
cut  however  being  defaced  by  some  of  its  most  disgusting  pro 
fanities  and  brutalities. — Saturday  Evening  Post. 

We  have  read  it  with  the  most  intense  interest,  and  commend 
it  as  a  work  calculated  to  do  an  immense  amount  of  good. — Lan- 
taster  Express. 

I* 


6 

We  have  given  this  excellent  work  a  careful  perusal,  and  un 
hesitatingly  recommend  it  to  all  lovers  of  good  reading.  It  illus 
trates  rum-drinking  so  truthfully,  that  the  most  skeptical  must 
confess  that  the  truth  is  not  exaggerated.  We  wish  that  all 
lovers  of  bar-rooms  and  rum  would  read  the  book.  It  will  pay 
them  richly  io  do  so. — N.  Y.  Northern  Blade. 

It  is  sufficient  commendation  of  this  little  volume  to  say  that  it 
is  from  the  graphic  pen  of  T.  S.  Arthur,  whose  works  will  be  read 
and  re-read  long  after  he  has  passed  away.  He  is  as  true  to  na 
ture,  as  far  as  he  attempts  to  explore  it,  as  Shakspeare  himself, 
and  his  works,  consequently,  have  an  immense  popularity.  The 
best  of  all  is,  that  his  writings  tend  to  make  men  better  as  well 
as  wiser.  This  little  volume  is  a  thrilling  temperance  story, 
showing  the  progress  from  temptation  to  utter  ruin,  and  the 
remedies  for  the  evils  set  forth.  The  volume  is  beautifully  printed 
and  bound. — New  Haven  Palladium. 

It  is  one  of  the  tales  of  an  author  who  has  no  superior  in  the 
country  in  developing  the  different  passions  of  the  human  heart. — • 
New  Haven  Jour.  &  Courier. 

There  are  many  scenes  unequalled  for  pathos  and  beauty,  and 
many,  too,  which  are  painful  in  their  sharply-defined  outlines  of 
horror  and  profanity.  The  death  of  little  Mary  can  scarcely  be 
surpassed,  while  the  closing  pages  of  the  book,  picturing  the 
downfall  of  the  tavern,  amid  the  wreck  of  worldly  hopes  and  the 
ruin  of  every  thing  that  makes  life  worth  the  living  for,  a  dark 
climax  of  vice  and  unrestrained  indulgence,  in  their  sad  and 
necessary  results,  are  too  gloomy  and  too  painfully  real  for  com 
ment. — N.  Y.  Home  Journal. 

This  is  the  title  of  a  new  temperance  tale  by  T.  S.  Arthur,  who 
has  been  very  successful  in  works  of  this  kind.  His  pictures  are 
vividly  drawn,  and  his  sketches  of  thrilling  interest. — Newark 
(N.  J.)  Eagle. 

A  new  temperance  volume,  which  displays  the  dark  sides  of 
bar-room  life,  and  the  general  intent  is  to  favour  the  passage  of  a 
prohibitory  law. — Newark  (N.  J.)  Advertiser. 


THE  FIRESIDE  ANGEL.     64  pages,  32mo,  with 

an  engraving.     Bound  in  muslin,  gilt  edges.    25  cents. 


MORAL  TALES  FOR  THE  PEOPLE 


VOL.  I. 

VBE    nAIBSH. 

A  STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 

VOL,  II. 

*  8  B    W  I  W  m ', 

A  STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN, 

VOL,  III. 


STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 

»  '  ~'®'— 

VOL.  IV. 


OR,  MARRIAGE  AND  CEUBACY  CONTRASTED. 

IN  A  SERIES  OF  DOMESTIC  PICTUBES. 


8 
VOL.  V. 


A  STORY  OF  MARRffiO  UFE. 


VOL.  VI. 

MM     Wir-trr* cl  • 


OB,  BEFORE  AND  AFTER  MARRIAGE. 


VOL.  VII. 


OR,  THE  RUNAWAY  MATCH. 


OR,  THE   JNJHSCRETJON. 


VOL.  VIII. 


AN  AMERICAN  STORY  OF  REAL  LIFE. 


VOL.  IX. 


»R  A  DAUGHTER'S  LOVE  AND  OTHER  TALES. 


VOL.  X. 


VOL.  XL 

van 


OR,  TWO  ERAS  IN  MY  L5FE. 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
University  of  California  Library  ' 
or  to  the 


)d9.  400,  Richmond  Fie,dBsSFACILITY 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 


torn  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 


-  •  ---- 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


MAY 


YC  102193 


M110Q92 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


